Old Ghosts
by SiriuslovesRemus
Summary: Death is no barrier to love, as Severus Snape and Remus Lupin are each about to discover. As war wages around them, will their connections to old ghosts be enough to see them through? Wartime fic, travelogue, AU, multiple pairings. SSxLE, SBxRL, DMxHP
1. Chapter One

The coffee was bitter. Remus stirred at it hopefully, watching the swirl of cream form a spiral as it followed the movement of the silver spoon. He had never cared for coffee; tea was more to his taste, but when he had questioned the waitress with the bouffant and pink rayon uniform about the types of tea available, she had given him such a quizzical look that he'd hastily ordered coffee instead. _Besides_, he thought reflectively, _another cup of lukewarm, watered down orange pekoe is not to my taste_. Earl Grey, apparently, was unheard of in America, at least in greasy spoon diners.

Unable to restrain the small smile that rose to his lips, Remus had to admit that Severus had indeed taken pains to ensure their cover would not be blown. No one in the wizarding world would ever expect to find them in an American Muggle diner, listening to whiny country music as it poured from a box flashing pink and green lights. Remus thought Arthur Weasley might like such a place, but Severus's usual style it was not.

Pleasant tinkling from the small bell over the door signalled Severus's arrival and Remus turned slightly to observe how well Severus Snape, pureblood wizard with a notable dislike of all things Muggle, had dressed. To his surprise, Severus had managed a perfect outfit -- crisp black trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The black boots gleaming from beneath the hem of the trousers were dragon hide, but Remus doubted anyone would notice.

"Automobiles," Severus hissed by way of greeting as he slid into the red vinyl booth opposite Remus, scowling. "How they stand them I don't know. The thing smoked and hitched the entire drive."

Through the window Remus could see a plume of bluish grey smoke floating on the wind. He took another sip of the hateful coffee to hide his smile. "The vehicle is probably a stick shift, Severus," Remus explained calmly, his warm honey-coloured eyes twinkling with irrepressible amusement. At Severus's blank look he continued. "It requires the driver to shift into different gears, depending on the speed and terrain."

Slowly, Severus nodded once, his black eyes distrustful and displeased as he regarded Remus's face, searching for any sign that he was being mocked. "That stick?" he asked finally. "I thought it was a decoration."

"No, one shifts it according to the numbers." Remus frowned and set his porcelain mug down onto the saucer, lusting for his familiar polished silver tea set and some cranberry orange scones, or perhaps chocolate biscuits. "Admittedly, I'm not too familiar with it myself. Sirius gave me a few lessons; he drove a stick shift before getting that motorbike of his, but I daresay he tampered with it. Strictly speaking, Muggle automobiles do not fly."

"Black," Severus spat, taking no notice of the pained gleam in Remus's eyes at the sound of the name. He shrugged to indicate that he did not care to devote his energies to learning anything Sirius Black had found enjoyable. "Next time I won't bother with the ruse. I merely wanted to approach in a suitable manner. Apparating has a tendency to scare Muggles out of their wits."

Smothering a laugh in a cough, Remus nodded, recalling his first Apparation lesson. The students of his class had been lined up on the Quidditch pitch and were to Apparate to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Remus, in his usual form, had been studying the process for days, quizzing himself repeatedly. He'd ended up splinched in the middle of Hogsmeade, much to the amusement of shoppers. Sirius, of course, had performed perfectly without so much as a single practise session or five minutes of studying. "Yes, Severus, that is true," he answered finally, noting the impatient look in Severus's eyes. "Well, do you have the reports?"

"I do." Severus reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a roll of parchment, which he slid across the Formica table with the air of someone dealing drugs. Furtively glancing around to see if he was being spied upon, Severus motioned for Remus to hide the report in his beaten suede jacket. Content that they were not being watched, Severus reclined against the back of the booth. "They have a plan now, one which is nearly complete. Apparently, the Dark Lord --" He paused hastily, biting off the words as the waitress bent across him, passing out cutlery. Instantly, he paled, certain the Muggle would detect something abnormal in their conversation.

Through a heavy application of bright pink lipstick, the waitress beamed. "Role playing games," she said knowledgeably. Patting her ratted blonde hair -- which both Severus and Remus were certain was not her natural colour -- she smiled. "My son plays them religiously. Dungeons and Dragons! I tell him, 'Joe, come out of the basement and spend some time in the light of day', but he's obsessed. So, which do you play?"

Flustered, Severus opened and closed his mouth, so Remus cut in smoothly. "Dark Lord," he answered, making up the lie easily. _Should be used to it, after all the times I lied to get Sirius and James out of trouble_, he thought. "The object of which is, of course, to kill the Dark Lord before he kills us."

"Is that so? I'll have to buy that for Joey. He loves those strategy games," the waitress replied with a grin. "Well then, what can I getcha? The burger plate is today's special."

"Have you got quiche?" Remus questioned, then immediately shook his head, remembering where he was. "I mean, the -- ah -- burger plate."

"Fish and chips," Severus demanded, thrusting the menus back at the waitress and looking sullen. When the waitress vanished, leaving behind only the rather medicinal smell of her hair spray, Severus turned to Remus, his eyes bright with fury. "What were you thinking, telling a Muggle that? The statue of secrecy still stands, Remus, or have you forgotten?"

Pushing his coffee away, Remus smiled. "Severus, she has absolutely no idea what we're talking about. Muggles don't know that there is a Dark Lord. She thinks it's a game we're discussing. Now, the plan?"

Sceptical though he was, Severus had to admit that the Muggle woman had not flown into a panic at the mention of the Dark Lord. He shook his head, letting his dark hair fall into his eyes. _Muggles_. "As I was saying before our rude interruption, the plan is nearly complete. The Dark Lord is tired of attempting to capture Potter by trickery. He means to use brute force. There will be three spears of attack; Lucius will lead the first, though I'm not sure who will lead the others. I have been assigned a post beneath Lucius. Apparently, a charm exists, which the Death Eaters have been developing, that can momentarily knock down the wards and defences on the castle."

Giving Remus a moment to consider the information, Severus sipped his water. Severus's face, pale as always, looked tired. For weeks he had been working around the clock, covering his teaching post at Hogwarts during the day and then going to Voldemort's side when summoned in the evenings. Images he had hoped never to see again burned against his eyelids; pictures of agony, murder and death. Suppressing a shudder, for Severus never allowed himself to be perceived as weak, he thought about the exploits of the previous evening. After a night of drinking, the Death Eaters had travelled to the home of a well known Ministry official and committed savage atrocities on the occupants. Madam Bones was no more, though Severus doubted the rest of the wizarding world knew that yet. He closed his eyes for a moment, offering a second of silence for her memory, as she had fought valiantly until the end.

"They plan to attack the castle," Remus mused. "When? Hogwarts will need to be closed, the students evacuated. Even with Dumbledore, if the defences don't hold..." He trailed off, the colour fading from his face. "When, Severus? When does Voldemort plan to strike?"

"Soon," Severus answered. "Nothing is definite yet, but within the month most certainly. The charm to repel the wards is nearly complete. In the mean time, Voldemort is gathering defences."

Remus sighed. "The Imperious?"

"The only way he knows how," Severus nodded. "The ranks of the Death Eaters have swollen with the Dark Lord's reincarnation. So many old, pureblood families who did not trust him now have faith that he can succeed. He has conquered death; they are certain he will conquer Potter and the Ministry. Still, that's not enough. The Imperious Curse is being used in abundance."

"And Cruciatus, I suppose that is another tool," Remus stated. There was no need to question; the haggard look in Severus's eyes answered the question well enough. A momentary flare of pity and thanks bloomed in Remus's chest. It was obvious Severus had suffered far greater then those who openly opposed Voldemort. "You?"

Reluctantly, Severus answered with a curt nod. "I voiced opposition to the plan of attack. I suggested that there was no need for innocent students -- pureblood students -- to be harmed just to get at Potter. I was told that no sacrifice is too great, not even the sons and daughters of those in our ranks. The curse...I have experienced it before," he added, shrugging in cold dismissal. There was furious pride gleaming in his onyx eyes as he stared at Remus. "Ten minutes of pain, far less then will be endured by anyone captured in this attack."

As much as Remus's nature impelled him to reach across the table and give Severus's hand a reassuring pat, he knew the gesture would be misunderstood. Severus did not abide by sympathy or comfort, and Remus respected him enough not to press it. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully. "I will tell Dumbledore, we should begin to plan the evacuation, as well as Harry's relocation, of course. He cannot return to the Dursley's home, Voldemort cannot go himself, but he can send Dementors."

"There is more, I'm afraid," Severus said, glaring. "Lucius suggested that the Unforgiveables be taught to the children of Death Eaters, to be used against other students during the attack. If the students are controlled, there is no telling who is safe and who isn't. The most unlikely of students, a Hufflepuff, for example, could be controlled from a distance and made to report back to the Death Eaters. Secrecy, even from the most trustworthy, is a requirement."

"I see," Remus said slowly. "Not even Harry's closest friends can know where he is to be hidden."

"Correct, and none may be given any clue that the Death Eater's plan has been uncovered. If they do, word could get back. The merest breath of anything amiss at Hogwarts could bring the Order's main defence, prior knowledge, crumbling down. I don't think it would take them long to determine who the leak is." Severus bared his teeth, looking as if he was ready to take on the lot of Death Eaters immediately.

The waitress approached, bearing a tray full of plates. Remus, who had skipped lunch, found he was no longer hungry, but he smiled appreciatively at the waitress anyway and made a big deal over the burger plate as if he'd never seen anything so delicious. Severus, who accepted his breaded cod with a sneer, watched him, one eyebrow raised incredulously.

Idly twirling a french fry between his fingers, Remus thought about Sirius. Were he alive, Remus was sure Sirius would be desperate to be in the middle of the plan. He probably would take to guarding Harry, sleeping on Harry's bed in dog form and prowling the grounds, growling menacingly. The thought, instead of paining him, brought Remus strength. A werewolf was put through too many things and subjected to too many prejudices to hold on to very many beliefs, but Remus knew with absolute certainty that Sirius was beside him every step of the way. He could practically feel the familiar, impatient breath blowing on his neck.

"Nice to see someone's getting pleasure out of the thought of life as we know it being destroyed," sneered Severus. "Thinking happy thoughts about the end of the world, Lupin, or do you just enjoy looking like a mindless idiot?"

"Charming," Remus answered, smiling at Severus across the table. "You have the best manners of anyone I know, Severus. I appreciate the way you don't waste time beating around the bush before you insult someone. Refreshing, really."

That shut Severus up, as Remus had intended. His motto, back when he'd been a daydreaming sixth year and actually kept a motto handy, had been all about killing with kindness. If anyone could be brought to their knees by a nice dose of sweetness, it was surely Severus Snape.

Not content with silence, Severus directed his complaints to the fish, which was, in his expert opinion, dry, mushy, greasy and lacking in flavour all at once. He complained about the notable absence of vinegar and the measly lemon slice. However, when the waitress wandered past once more and asked how the meal was, he merely grunted approval.

"Harry will put up a protest, of course," Remus broke in, cutting off the complaints about the meal that, despite all it's problems, apparently appealed to Severus, who was consuming it rapidly. "He believes he is old enough to stand and fight. Of course, he will never stand for being tucked safely away while others die in a battle over him."

"Potter," Severus spat unkindly, "will have to accept whatever Albus decides to do with him. He's a child still."

"Seventeen," Remus answered calmly, sliding the salt across to Severus, who was looking for it frantically. "He's not so young; he's of age, in fact. I for one think he ought to have a say in the situation. Locking him away while others duel to protect him will not be taken as kindly; Harry sees that sort of thing as a lack of trust on his part. He wants to join the Order, Severus."

Clanging, the fork Severus had been using on his fish dropped against the plate. "Nothing doing," Severus stated firmly, his eyes bright and furious. "Seventeen or not, he is still a child, Remus. I won't risk harm to him after all I've gone through on his behalf." Severus's eyes were alight with anger, but Remus could see something else reflected in the black surfaces. A fierce desire to protect Harry was gleaming from within the shadowy depths, an instinct Severus might not recognise, might deny even, but which was plainly visible.

Pushing his uneaten hamburger aside, Remus sighed. "And if Dumbledore says Harry is old enough to stand and fight? What then, Severus? At seventeen he is of age to join the Order. His closest friends will be fighting this battle."

"That is for the headmaster to decide," Severus answered in a biting tone, clearly disturbed by the proposition. "But I highly doubt Albus Dumbledore will endanger his prize pupil, last hope of salvation for the wizarding world." His voice took on a mocking lilt as he shook his head in disgust. "Potter will have to settle for making it through the war alive, which is a better option then some of us face."

The comment gave Remus pause. It was true enough; unless something happened to turn the tide, many of the Order would not see the other side of the war. Voldemort's forces, once depleted and exhausted, were at full strength. The Dark wizard himself had risen just three years earlier and for all intents and purposes appeared immortal. Already, the wizarding world was beginning it's slow descent into terror. It had been less then two years previous when Cornelius Fudge had finally allowed the newspapers to print the story of Voldemort's return and many wizards still denied the possibility of a renewed Dark Lord. Remus knew better. Reports of missing witches and wizards continued to multiply and tales of terror were exchanged in the streets. He sighed. The thought of death, which had once brought him only terror, was now suffused with a sort of comfort. Dying meant seeing Sirius and James once more. He allowed himself the briefest moment to consider this before glancing up.

"If you're ready, Severus, I should be returning to Albus with these." Remus patted his jacket pocket as he swung the coat over his shoulders. "He's expecting me soon and at any rate, I have an early class to teach tomorrow."

Bristling, Severus nodded curtly. Despite his vital role as a spy for the Order, Severus had never gotten over losing the Defence Against the Dark Arts position to Remus once more. Personally, Remus would have gladly traded, he was just thankful to feel useful again. In the year following Sirius's death he had wandered aimlessly, unable to find work or even collect his thoughts. Dumbledore's insistence that he return to his teaching post had helped drag him out of the hazy netherworld of thoughts he had been drowning in.

"I trust you'll not be returning tonight?" Remus asked as both men rose from the booth.

Severus shook his head. "No," he answered bitterly. "There are -- plans." He glanced away, his eyes distant and pained for the barest second. "I should stumble through the Floo with ten minutes to spare before my morning class. Otherwise, of course, I would accompany you to the meeting and deliver my information to Dumbledore himself." The words seemed kindly enough but the tone was harsh, punishing Remus for the luxury of a regular life.

"Shall I?" Remus questioned, picking up the bill that had been left on the table. Without waiting for an answer he left an American twenty dollar bill on the edge of the table. "You can pay next time."

"How thoughtful of you," Severus sneered, but he collected himself and followed Remus outside.

The sun had gone down during their chat, leaving the sky a beautiful midnight blue, which Remus stared at for a moment, searching among the stars for a particular star. Spotting it, he smiled and then turned to Severus. "I presume now is not the time to offer driving lessons?"

"I'm leaving the car," Severus answered, tossing the keys onto the sandy ground without a second thought. "It was stolen anyway." Without a farewell, he vanished abruptly, Apparating to wherever Voldemort had summoned him.

Plucking up the set of keys from where they had fallen, Remus tilted his head once more to the stars. It was foolish to pray to constellations in hopes of Sirius hearing him, but Remus could not resist sending thoughts out to Sirius anyway. Content that Sirius had heard his plea for support, he slid into the car and started the engine, pleased with it's easy purr. As he pulled away, planning to drive the car back to it's original owner, Remus opened the glove compartment, wondering from whom Severus had stolen the automobile. The compartment was empty, however, save for a small purple rabbit's foot key chain.

The car slid off the road onto the sandy shoulder as Remus slammed onto the brakes. Trembling and panting, Remus snatched up the key chain, turning it over. It was cheap, something won from a fair booth, slightly faded with time. Two keys hung on it, one gold and one a black skeleton key much too long to fit a Muggle lock. Remus felt himself shake as if he'd just been hit with a gust of freezing air. He uncurled his fist, bringing the keys closer to his face. Etched very faintly on the black key was the number twelve. The other, the tarnished gold key, however, stole the breath from Remus's lungs. He hadn't forgotten it, how could he? He could still recall the pleasure of holding the key to his very first flat. In the rapidly fading light, Remus could barely make out the scratches, made from a penknife on an evening long ago, that marked the key "RJL London".


	2. Chapter Two

"Where the hell -- bugger it all," Severus snapped as he stepped out of nowhere to someplace just as promising. It was absolutely freezing. A cruel wind whipped past, ruffling Severus's hair and making the fabric of his black robes flap like a bat in the breeze. Snarling, Severus pulled his cloak tighter, suppressing a shiver. Displaying his discomfort was weakness and Severus, baring his teeth in challenge to the wind, intended no part of it. He glanced up. Overhead the sky was pitch black and starless, the feeble light of the slivered moon blotted out by silvery-blue clouds that hunched heavily overhead. A storm was gathering; Severus could feel the pressure changing already, even as the brisk wind gave another wolf-like howl.

For all appearances, Severus had just emerged into a painting of a Gothic scene. He was standing on what looked to be a Scottish moor. He was none too pleased with this and scowled at the scenery. In the distance, lush green hills, shadowed by the clusters of clouds that hung in the sky, rolled smoothly, cutting between pockets of fog. Wisps of mist shifted, moving like desert sands. Severus could see a faint blue light within the mist, bobbing slowly, temptingly. It was not a night for Muggles to be out, he knew, not with that thing out there, luring hapless wanderers to their unpleasant demise.

In the distance a rustling sound could be heard. Severus frowned, then sniffed. The scent drawn into his nostrils was of salt water -- he was near the sea. The smell of death drifted in an undercurrent just below the powerful smell of the salt in the air. As a child, reading tales of pirates and wars, Severus had scoffed at the notion of something as abstract as death having a scent, but he had learned better as a Death Eater and now, as a spy, the smell was familiar, like the lingering perfume of an old lover or the stain of smoke embedded into linens long after the fire has been put out. Death had a scent all it's own; must, dust and decay, the smell of rotting leaves crunched underfoot, of low tide, of soil in a cemetery after a rain had fallen. Death had the coppery tang of spilt blood and tears, the smell of sweat infused with fear, of loss and panic and things once precious lost or put away. Severus breathed in the scent deeply; he had sworn allegiance to Dumbledore and worked against Voldemort now, but the old habits remained. Death was not a pleasant scent perhaps but it was familiar and filled Severus with a longing he did not quite recognise and which he was at a loss to explain.

Striding across the moor, his long legs cutting a path through the mist that very determinedly avoided the dancing blue light, Severus walked down to the sea. The pound of the water against the beach was rough, nothing like the calming flow of water in the daytime. This was not a swimming beach. Anyone who went out in that dark, choppy water would never make it back, irregardless of how good a swimmer they were. Severus could see sharp rocks angling up as the waves retreated, exposing dangerous points. It tempted him and saddened him all at once, though he was not exactly certain why.

"Finally," he hissed irritably a moment later as he stepped past a darkened lighthouse and saw a flash of light in the distance. It was green, not white -- the Killing Curse. Severus wondered what they had been summoned to do this time. No Ministry officials lived out here; he was pretty sure of that and he was very rarely incorrect. It was Muggle territory, the air devoid of the almost electric crackle that marked the area witches and wizards lived in. Severus could feel something, impressions perhaps, memories that marked the ground haunted, but there was no magic in the air.

A moment later Severus stood beside the remains of what had once been a cozy Muggle cottage. The front door, which was splashed with blood, was hanging open. It had been partially torn from its hinges. From beyond the door Severus could hear a woman screaming, though as the wind howled around him it stole the sound and Severus guessed anyone nearby would mistake the panicked cries as a trick of the wind.

Stepping inside, Severus surveyed the ruins of the home. Embers still burned feebly in the iron fire grate; a harsh, bone-chilling breeze cut through a window and whipped the smouldering ashes into a small whirlwind. The furniture had all been slashed and broken by what looked like Reducto curses.

The shriek came again, higher pitched this time, more desperate. Severus's ears pricked up at the sound and he followed it through the shambles of a little hallway and into the master bedroom.

"Ah, there you are Severus," commented Lucius Malfoy smoothly as he turned away from the macabre scene. The bedroom was destroyed. An ancient feather bed, likely an heirloom, had been slashed open. Feathers drifted from it, some sticking to the tacky blood which had pooled on the polished hardwood flood. The trail of blood led to a man, clearly dead, who was sprawled on the floor, his blue eyes shocked and his mouth open. Beside him lay a woman, bound, surrounded by four Death Eaters with looks of anticipation on their faces. Severus sneered at them hatefully, his shoulders drawn back, his jaw tight. He looked every bit the predator; the masked Death Eaters turned away reluctantly like beta wolves, unwilling to attack an alpha.

Lucius stepped over the deceased man and crossed the room, a twisted hint of a smile on his lips. Without a word he took Severus's arm and led him across the hall into a smaller bedroom. The walls of the room were painted pale pink and mercifully bore no splashes of blood. In one corner of the room was a small, child sized canopy bed made up with a bright yellow comforter. Nothing had been disturbed except for the window, which was shattered. Through the broken shards of glass hanging in the frame Severus could see the rain pelting down. The storm had begun.

A small sound, the escape of panicked breath, caught Severus's attention. He turned towards the shadowy corner of the bedroom, where MacNair was crouched, wand out, guarding a small child of perhaps six. The little girl stared up at Severus fearfully, terror evident in her wide, tear-filled blue eyes. She was dressed in fleecy white pyjamas and was plainly scared out of her wits. In one arm was a black stuffed thing, probably a bear. The other hand was being held by MacNair in a way that could by no stretch of the imagination be described as kindly.

Lucius sat down on the little bed and patted the place beside him, indicating that Severus should sit down as well. Stiffly, Severus lowered himself to the very edge of the bed before glaring at Lucius. The older gentleman was insufferable, as was that smirk on Lucius's lips.

"Now then, no need to be rude, Severus," Lucius said calmly, his eyes still on the Muggle child. "Say hello to our little guest." He turned to MacNair. "Bring her."

Rising from the ground MacNair smirked unpleasantly at Severus, who scowled hatefully. He hated MacNair, always had. As a Death Eater Severus had been certain the brazen cockiness MacNair displayed would be the death of them all; now, as a spy for the Order, it grated on his nerves to see anyone looking so pleased with themselves. Back at Hogwarts he would have deducted fifty points for sheer ugliness, but here, in the Muggle cottage with the thrumming of rain echoing in his ears, Severus contented himself with sneering back.

MacNair approached, dragging the frightened child, who struggled and tried to twist out of his grasp, whimpering softly, apparently too scared or too uncertain to scream. Severus looked down at her coldly, his eyes filled with a loathing he did not feel. The girl stared back, trembling and seeking some sort of acknowledgement or assistance. _You're looking to the wrong person, little one,_ Severus thought, unable to avoid the uncustomary twinge of pity for the child. Muggle or not, she did not deserve what would happen to her. He glanced over at Lucius and immediately felt sick. Lucius was staring as though entranced, his silvery grey eyes alight with something that made Severus's stomach turn.

Reaching for the child, Lucius brought up one hand and lightly stroked her brown hair, which fell in tangles, framing a face so pale that Severus could see the faint blue of her veins beneath the skin. Instead of pulling away the girl stood still, shaking and clutching her stuffed bear, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open as if she was asleep. Severus guessed she was escaping into the last refuge she had, her mind. He was momentarily jealous of the depths of a child's imagination. The pleasant dinner with Lupin -- if spending time with the insufferable werewolf could be referred to as pleasant -- seemed years and years away, lifetimes ago.

Watching Lucius was disturbing for more then one reason. As much as Severus despised the man and whatever dark intentions glittered in his eyes, Severus knew he was just as bad, just as much a monster. Although the exploits of the Death Eaters now held no amusement for him he had once been an eager participant, revelling in murder and driven with blood lust. He would have been looking at the child with the same hunger, would, like Lucius, be searching for some momentary respite from the wrath that burned within. Now he was too changed to take comfort in the sacrifice of another, but he had not forgotten the past.

"Is something the matter, Severus?" inquired Lucius as he reached for Severus's hand and set it on the little girl's shoulder. Noting Severus's grimace, Lucius raised an eyebrow. "You look disturbed."

Severus sighed, looking much put upon. "Merely exhausted is all, Lucius, so may I ask why we are wasting time toying with small children? Are you telling me you do not get your fill of seducing youngsters when your son is home on summer holidays?"

His elegant face twisting into a look of contempt, Lucius glared. "What are you attempting to insinuate, Severus?"

"Nothing whatsoever," Severus remarked in a voice that clearly implied he had many things to insinuate. "Your private life is of no interest to me. But this," he pointed to the Muggle child and sneered. "This is not worth my time."

"Never were much for girls, were you, eh Snape?" joked MacNair, his rotted teeth exposed from behind his lips as he drew them back. Eyes twinkling with the pleasure of insulting Severus he leered. "Have you buggered so many boys at that school of yours that this no longer holds excitement for you?"

Eyes narrowing in deadly fashion, Severus stared back into MacNair's eyes with a hate so immense that it made the other man turn away. "I had no idea the topic interested you so," he said coldly, his voice low and frozen. "Is that the reason your sons no longer speak to you?"

"How dare you," MacNair snapped, wrinkling his nose. "I don't know nothing about -- whatever you're talking about. I don't know nothing about buggering."

"Is that so?" Severus continued, cold as ice, wishing he could drop the pretense of what passed for civility among Death Eaters. "So then you don't recall what happened between yourself and Voldemort? Do share it with us, MacNair, the rest of us have not had the honour of being raped by the Dark Lord himself. I still remember the way you screamed." He flashed a cruel smile MacNair's way, raising one dark eyebrow.

The words seemed to stun MacNair for a moment. The next moment he went bright red and reached for his wand, too late. Severus already had his wand out. He could not resist twirling it through his fingers with flair, his eyes sharp and murderous as a crow's as he regarded the other Death Eater.

"Enough," hissed Lucius, pushing the little girl down and pronouncing the killing curse in a casual, disinterested voice. The child fell soundlessly to the floor, her stuffed animal falling from her hand and rolling a little way from her, her blue eyes open but sightless.

Severus watched, his outward coldness masking his internal guilt. The stuffed animal had been a dog, not a bear, he noted. He rose stiffly from the bed, not wanting to invade the little girl's space any longer. "Do hurry, Lucius, before MacNair develops a taste for necrophilia."

Angry looking, his chin wobbling slightly, MacNair shot Severus a final hateful look and scuttled away, closely followed by Lucius, who glided through the wreckage of the home without so much as a look over his shoulder. "Return to Hogwarts," Lucius barked, sounding much less smooth. He was angry, but Severus knew from experience that it would not last. "I have no use for you any more tonight, nor does the Dark Lord."

The Death Eaters Disapparated in a swirl of black, leaving Severus alone in the doorway of the former cottage. Turning around, he could see the feet of the dead girl, clad in pink socks. Sighing, Severus rubbed his temples, trying to tell himself that provoking Lucius into a quick, painless murder had been the right choice. _Merlin knows how the girl would have suffered otherwise_, he thought, but it was no relief from the guilt that stabbed him.

"I had to, otherwise it would have been so much worse," Severus said, the mask of soullessness slipping away as he batted a strand of damp, dark hair from his eyes. "You have no idea what Lucius is capable of." _What I am capable of_, his traitorous mind whispered. Severus nodded slowly. Hadn't he once loved the thrill of the hunt, the excitement of destruction? His protests sounded hollow even to him. With a sigh, thinking of the long night that lay ahead checking in with Dumbledore and then getting to the fourth year essays, Severus walked out of the house, feeling dirty despite the pouring rain that tried to wash him clean.

Some seven thousand kilometres away from where Severus Snape was picking his cautious way through a foggy lowland, Remus Lupin leaned forward, convulsively clutching the purple rabbit's foot key-chain. Some people enjoyed making trophies of the heads of dead animals or using their body parts to make novelties but Remus, perhaps because of his close association to animals and the guilt that came from realising that in his werewolf form he had probably killed his share of small beasts, considered such things macabre. Still, although he could feel the stiff, brittle bones and dulled, rounded claws beneath the purple coloured fur, Remus could not help smiling at the memory. He could still see it so clearly in his mind; the bright sunshine fading as the afternoon wore on, the blur of colours and faces, the scents of popcorn and pastry and spilled soda. Unable to stop being pulled inside his own memory, Remus closed his eyes. He could almost smell the popcorn, could nearly hear the excited shrieks of the kids on the ride, could nearly see a mental picture of an nineteen year old Sirius, fresh from Hogwarts and eager to see the world, forming in his mind.

_"Hey, Moony!"_

_Remus stood, hands shoved into the pocket of the worn brown suede jacket, staring up at the Ferris wheel and attempted to suppress a shudder. He had no problem flying; Sirius had gotten him over that particular phobia, but he still felt concerned for all those Muggles, trapped in seats so high up. It all seemed so rickety. _Nothing man-made should go that high, not ever_, he thought to himself even as he turned away, glad for the distraction._

_The chipped, yellow-painted fair booth Sirius was leaning against was nothing remarkable; the same could not be said for Sirius himself. Dressed in ripped blue jeans smeared with motorcycle oil and a black t-shirt, his dark hair longish and still damp from a shower, Sirius was easily the most attractive person at the Muggle fair. Groups of girls decked out in short skirts winked as they walked by and then broke into nervous giggles. Even a couple of guys gave him furtive glances. Sirius, of course, ignored them all._

_"Watch this," Sirius said as Remus joined him. He slid a handful of Muggle coins across the scarred counter top and was handed ten plastic darts in various colours. "See that?" he asked, pointing at the rack of prizes. _

_Remus followed Sirius's hand and his eyes rested on a giant stuffed black dog, one of those stuffed animals larger then the children who tended to own them. He nodded slowly. Sirius, for all his talents, had never expressed an interest in throwing darts before and Remus rather doubted he'd be able to win much. Everyone knew fairs were rigged. "All right, Pads, I'll believe it when I see it."_

_With a bark-like laugh, Sirius slapped Remus on the back. "Oh ye of little faith," he taunted, pretending to look put out, though the pout on his lips did not match the gleam in his eye. He flashed a trademark smile, the one he used when he was proud of something and fully intended to make someone else proud too. "Just watch me. Moony?" Sirius exclaimed as Remus turned to scowl at the Ferris wheel. "You have to watch."_

_Instead of remarking that Sirius sounded like a petulant brat, which he did, Remus smiled affectionately. It was good to see Sirius happy again, finally. Immediately after leaving school he'd gotten in a tremendous row with his family, who had threatened to take away his inheritance. Remus knew Sirius was too proud and defiant to apologise, but he also knew Sirius had been depressed for a while. James, once Sirius's best friend, was dating Lily seriously and they were becoming quite involved. Sirius had been somewhat alone. _Until now._ Remus moved a little closer. _

_Sirius slapped Remus on the back with a rakish grin that melted the hearts of nearly everyone in the vicinity, though the booth attendant merely crossed his meaty arms over his grubby, sweat-stained white t-shirt and scowled. Leaning forward a plucking a dart from the counter, Sirius paused. He had a canine air about him, almost as if he was pointing or tracking. He drew back one arm and threw the dart with deadly precision. It sailed forward, hitting the direct centre of the bull-eye._

_"Impressive," Remus agreed, nodding as Sirius raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. _

_Seven more darts all hit dead centre, quivering from impact. The booth attendant abandoned his posture of disinterest and gaped. Sirius threw another, turning to blow kisses to the small crowd of onlookers gathered around him. Two girls squealed; Sirius, winked and then turned back, forgetting all about them. He was used to being admired. While he liked giving the people a show, the girls batting their eyelashes and fixing their lipgloss held no interest for him._

_"Last one," he said finally, picking up a single blue plastic dart and looking at the target. The red centre was no longer visible, filled up as it was by nine of Sirius's perfectly aimed darts. _

_Remus had to admit that for a guy wearing ripped jeans and a roach clip dangling from one ear like a strange feathered earring, Sirius was fairly impressive. His black hair fell over his eyes in a superbly attractive fashion and his eyes sparkled with a amusement and joy. Remus could not resist grinning and crossing his fingers as Sirius took aim, though Remus's eyes were fixed more on the tight denim then the target. He had known for a long time that he was in love with Sirius, though he had of course remained quiet. It was not acceptable, in the year 1978, to admit that he was in love with his best friend. Still, they were close friends and it was all right by anyone's standards of appropriate behaviour to hope Sirius won._

Thwack_. The dart hit dead centre, quivering next to its fellows. Grudgingly, the booth attendant handed Sirius his prize from the very top row. From the crowd, several girls stepped forward, smiling aggressively and winking, clearly hoping the gorgeous black haired Sirius would pay them some attention. Sighing, Remus stepped back a little and turned away, looking back at the Ferris wheel. He was forever on the outside, admiring from afar, tangled in feelings he should not have and which, it seemed, no one would ever know. Although he was too kindly to fault them for it, Remus was jealous of those girls hovering in their pink and yellow shorts and waving with fingernails they had painted white. They had license to love Sirius; Remus did not. _

_"Moony, it's your turn," Sirius announced, pushing Remus forward and tearing him away from his melancholy thoughts. The bitter undertone of envy faded as the noise and chaos of the fair returned. Grinning, Sirius skittered some coins towards the balky booth attendant, who glared hatefully at Remus. _

Don't worry, it's not like I'll win or anything_, Remus thought, mentally projecting his thoughts to the grubby man. He had never played before and his hand was shaking slightly under the weight of Sirius's glance. He picked up one of the darts, closed his eyes, steadied his breathing and flung it forward. Opening his eyes, he saw that he had not hit the bull-eye. In fact, he had not hit the target at all. The dart had fallen into the dust behind the makeshift counter._

_Ignoring Sirius's muffled snort and the tittering of the girls that had remained to lust after Sirius, Remus tried again. And again. On his last dart he managed to hit the outer edge of the target._

_"I'm horrible at this," Remus mused, embarrassed and glad to be done._

_"Yes, you are," Sirius laughed, patting Remus on the shoulder. His hand lingered for a moment before he swung one arm around Remus's shoulders. _

_"All right, you two, clear off. I've got paying customers waiting!" barked the attendant with a scowl, despite the fact that none of the passersby were showing the slightest interest in playing darts for prizes. "Oh yeah, consolation prize," he added, tossing a purple rabbit's foot key-chain at Remus before waving him and Sirius away._

_"Here," Remus said abruptly, pressing the key-chain into Sirius's palm. He didn't know why, except that in his heart he felt he should repay Sirius for his devoted friendship. Gorgeous, amusing, sexy, brilliant Sirius Black, who could make girls faint by winking at them and who had captured the hearts of even the most sour teachers, could have had anyone as his friend. He could have -- _should have_, Remus thought to himself, allowing his negativity to rise -- chosen someone beautiful and clever, with a wonderful sense of humour and a love of sports. Instead, he'd chosen Remus Lupin, the impoverished werewolf whose idea of a good time was eating Honeydukes chocolate and reading every book the Hogwarts library had to offer. Sirius had dragged Remus out of his shell, forced him to overcome some of his shyness, taught him to swear and perfect the look of disdain Gryffindors were practically required to give to Slytherins. The little key-chain was nothing much, but Remus felt very clearly that he owed everything he had to Sirius._

_To Remus's amazement, Sirius grinned as if he'd just been given the crown jewels and carte blanche to torment Severus Snape all in one. He reached over, his grin fading into a soft, pouty expression, his eyes going darker, deeper. Leaning forward, his fingers knotted in Remus's brown hair, Sirius kissed him, first on the left cheek, then on the right and finally on the lips. For the moment that the kiss lasted, Remus ceased to hear the roar of the crowds, the tinkling music and the urging of the carnies. All he knew was heat, the brisk scrape of Sirius's five o'clock shadow and the taste of cotton candy on Sirius's lips._

_Finally, Remus felt Sirius pull away. Although he still felt dazed and stunned Sirius was already over it, shifting anxiously on one foot with puppyish enthusiasm. His eyes, bright and joyous, gave no hint of anything deeper as, with a grin, he handed Remus the giant stuffed dog. "For you."_

_"Oh, you don't --" Remus started to say, but Sirius shook his head and pressed a finger to Remus's lips, either unaware of the passersby gawking at them or just plain disinterested in what anyone else thought. _

_"Of course I don't have to, Moony. I want to." Sirius's eyes went soft for a minute, the shiny, mischievous glint fading to a look of something like longing. Then he smiled. "I want you to have it. It'll remind you of me. You can even call him Padfoot." The haughty gleam in Sirius's eyes shone as he attempted to hide a smile. He glanced away and then looked back, his grin huge as he reached for Remus's hand and dragged him forward. "Look! Ferris wheel!"_

Shaking his head softly to clear away the memories, Remus smiled sadly. It was addictive, revisiting Sirius, especially during the pleasant times. If Remus admitted it to himself the pain and guilt were also addictive, but this was not the time. He had a meeting of the Order and with wizards disappearing right and left he would be bound to panic everyone if he delayed much longer.

Stepping out of the car, Remus pocketed the key-chain and looked down at the vehicle. He had never seen it before, of that he was certain. It was obviously Muggle, for it bore none of the enchantments and enhancements wizard-kind seldom could resist placing on their property. Where it had come from was a mystery. It seemed to be a sign of some sort, an omen of good or ill, though Remus could not decide what the intended meaning was.

Gold horizon edged along the purple sky and Remus followed it with his eyes, turned back to the stars, his one comfort. "Are you up there? he whispered. "Are you trying to tell me something, Sirius? Because if you are, there are better ways then this."

The sky made no reply, not that Remus had really expected to hear a voice from beyond the grave echoing in the cold stratosphere. He had turned to the star of Sirius time and again without answer and only imagined comfort. During his year teaching at Hogwarts, before Sirius had escaped the clutches of Azkaban, Remus had strolled the darkened grounds on occasion, unsure of he was praying or just wishing out loud.

"I need you," he said, louder this time. The wind blew past, stinging his eyes, but Remus refused to blink or turn away. "I have always needed you."

Cold comfort, but comfort it was, especially when the stars seemed to sparkle back. Remus guess it was his tears distorting the image, but it pleased him still. Although he could not explain it well he truly did feel Sirius at his side, perhaps not in body but certainly in spirit. The aura of eagerness, the flood of electricity and static that had always marked Sirius's presence seemed close by.

Smiling a little at himself and chiding himself under his breath for being a hopeless dreamer, Remus started down the highway, moving beyond the circle of light from the restaurant and nearby gas station. Within a minute he was standing in the shadows. He turned around, making sure no one was watching him, then whispered the charm and Disapparated.


	3. Chapter Three

Severus Snape's black silk slippers whisked against the cool marble of the dungeon hallway as he walked, his pace increasing as he pondered a mind too heavy with thoughts. He was exhausted; always a light sleeper he had managed to scrape barely two hours a night for the past week and it showed in the bruised hollows under his eyes. Despite the physical ache of tiredness his mind was wide awake, his thoughts edged in panic.

He had woken moments before from a hideous nightmare. In it, he was standing on a dais dressed in the black mask and cloak of a Death Eater, one in a crowd of shapeless black forms. Voldemort had moved through the crowd, parting the faithful like Moses at the Red Sea, pausing when he came to Severus. _Traitor_, Severus's mind had whispered as Voldemort had rounded on him, his eyes turning a deadly, hideous shade of reddish gold. _Liar! Betrayer_, the voice taunted, turning from Severus's own inner voice into Voldemort's, a sound like nails scratched down a chalkboard or screams muffled by the wind. _Tell me your secrets. Reveal your mind to me. You cannot hide forever_, the voice warned dangerously as Voldemort moved closer. In the dream, Severus could smell the Dark Lord's breath and could feel the heat of it on his face, but although he tried to back away and wall off his mind Voldemort moved closer, his touch searing on the skin.

It had been at that point that Severus had jerked out of sleep with a shout to find himself covered with a thin sheen of sweat and tangled in his bedclothes. His heart had been drumming out irregular beats, the natural rhythm distorted by panic, and his head had ached. He had been able to feel Voldemort clawing in the defences of his mind for a moment, then the sensation had faded. Nervousness had driven him from the bed out into the hall, where the cool air struck him with the force of a slap, bringing him fully out of the clutches of sleep.

Something moved in the shadows. For one moment Severus's mind froze, gripped in a vise of terror. It was Voldemort, he was certain, come to kill him. The next moment the shadowy figure stepped away from the wall and Severus chided himself furious for that moment of fear. He hated to make a fool of himself, especially where Dumbledore was concerned. "Headmaster," Severus said, his voice sharp as razors.

"Good evening, Severus," said Dumbledore pleasantly, stepping forward. His silvery white beard seemed very bright in the semidarkness. "Good morning, rather. You are up quite late, Severus. Trouble sleeping again?"

_Mind reading bastard_, Severus thought meanly. That was the trouble with Dumbledore; he had an annoying tendency to accurately guess other people's maladies. "No."

"Join me for tea in my office," said Dumbledore. It was not a suggestion, although his eyes gleamed merrily. "I've just procured a package of the most delicious chocolate raspberry biscuits."

_Self-righteous, pompous, insufferable know-it-all_, supplied Severus's mind conveniently. He rolled his eyes towards the darkened ceiling, cursing his bad luck. He wondered what sort of Dark magic was it that lured Dumbledore out to the dungeon halls precisely when he, Severus, needed time alone. Sighing dramatically as if preparing to be broken at the wheel rather then forced to take tea with the Headmaster, Severus followed Dumbledore out of the dungeons and through the halls.

"Severus, I wanted to speak to you about a very important matter," said Dumbledore as the two of them stepped into Dumbledore's office. _And I'm sure it will be almost as pleasant as all the times I have had to deny you the Defence Against the Dark Arts position_, he thought wearily, but covered the thought with a brief nod. Severus, the most difficult of his staff, was nonetheless Dumbledore's favourite. "I'm taking you off the case. You will no longer be a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Now, knowing you this will be a battle, so let's have a nice cup of tea. How do you take it? Sugar? Lemon?"

Stopping abruptly, Severus narrowed his eyes and surveyed the Headmaster sullenly. Finally he spoke, using the same dangerously soft voice Harry Potter had come to fear. "Lemon. Now, repeat yourself. I am certain I misheard."

"Sit down, Severus," said Dumbledore. He slid a silver tray of cookies across the desk. "Biscuit? And no, I do believe you heard me correctly. Your career as a double agent must come to an end, Severus. You have provided the Order with vital information. However, I fear the risks are simply too great to allow you to continue."

As he sank gracefully into one of Dumbledore's high backed chairs, Severus glared. "You're asking me to stop spying _now_? Now that the war is finally beginning and we have an inkling of the enemy's plan?"

"I'm afraid that is precisely what I am asking," Dumbledore answered with a nod. "We know enough about Voldemort's plan to prepare for the attack and to form a defence for ourselves. The time has come to face facts; Voldemort is not a stupid man. If he does not suspect a traitor in his midst now he will soon. It is no longer safe for you to work in the capacity."

_Fool_, Severus thought. _It was never safe_. He sipped his tea thoughtfully. "Irregardless of safety concerns you may have, Albus, my work is not finished. I did not agree to spy out of any misinterpretation of the risks involved. Cutting off the only source of information we have is not only foolhardy, it's suicide. No, my work continues."

"Please, Severus, be reasonable. I assure you no one will view you actions as cowardly. The Order of the Phoenix understands how hard you have worked and what risks you have taken, and we wish to thank you for those contributions --"

"I am not interested in assurances, Albus," Severus remarked, staring across the table at Dumbledore. "Nor do I require the Order of the Phoenix to serve as a cheerleader on my behalf. My contributions, as you well know, are not due to any sense of responsibility towards the Order." His eyes were serious, his gaze black. "I trust I do not need to explain myself. Your memory for details is...sufficient."

"If lingering feelings towards Lily P -- Evans," Dumbledore corrected himself hastily, seeing the steely glint in Severus's eye. He did not miss the way Severus clutched the handle of his teacup so hard that it snapped off. "If those feelings have prompted you to continue putting yourself at risk to protect Harry then I am all the more thankful. I understand it is difficult for you to let go. However, your work is becoming increasingly more dangerous."

Setting his teacup down onto the saucer with a loud clang, Severus raised his eyes to Dumbledore. "Be that as it may, Headmaster, the Dark Lord is still intending Harry's destruction. For the time being my work continues."

"Please, Severus, listen to reason. I understand that you feel obligated to protect Harry, but putting yourself at risk is suicide and will not help him," Dumbledore urged. In the flickering candlelight his eyes were multifaceted, shimmering with colour and bright with sympathy. "Be logical. Dying for the Order will not undo the past. Dying to defend Harry will not bring Lily Evans back, however much you may wish it."

"Your logic bores me," Severus declared icily as he rose. _How dare you... how DARE you_, he thought violently, filled with a rage he normally reserved for thoughts of James Potter. Even Harry had only seen a shade of the fury boiling within Severus, and that was due to his infernal spying. "You have nary the slightest understanding of how I feel or what I think. Farewell, Headmaster."

Dumbledore sighed, the weight of his long years settling on his shoulders. His age was obvious in his weary eyes. "You were always reckless, brilliant and brave, Severus. It was those qualities that brought you to Voldemort in the first place. I hope they will see you through."

Severus swept from the room without looking back. In his wake a cold wind blew, puffing out the candles and casting Dumbledore's office into darkness. Dumbledore rested his chin in his hands feeling, not for the first time, that the control he had long yielded was slipping away.

_Perhaps I should have brought an umbrella_, thought Remus Lupin with a tired smile as he trudged forward through the desert. Overhead, the sun was a brilliant gold disc, its rays shimmering down onto Lupin's skin hot as molten lava, drawing out sweat. Underfoot the sand stirred and shifted, obscuring his tracks. _Sunblock, at the very least_. He could feel his skin reddening, succumbing to burn, and wondered if the miraculous healing powers of werewolves extended to sunburn.

Up ahead, Remus could see the flapping sides of the striped silk tent that symbolised the beginning of the marketplace. Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus moved towards it at a quicker pace, wiping his glistening brow with his sleeve. His mouth was dry, calling out for water, and he wondered how Severus Snape, who seemed to thrive on the dark and the cold, was faring. _Next time, perhaps he'll choose to summon me to a destination with a better climate_, Remus thought, wondering what Severus would look like with a sunburn on his normally pale skin. Covering his face with one hand to hide his smile, Remus hurried forward.

Taking shelter in the small tent, Remus looked around. This was the marketplace, an impromptu sprawl of Bedouin tents and rickety structures, a gleaming man-made oasis in the midst of the swirling sands of the desert. It was filled with life, men bedecked in turbans faded by the desert sun, women with their faces partially obscured by filmy veils, eyes accented with kohl. Scents assaulted him; exotic incense, opium, roasting meat, homemade perfumes. Clouds of smoke drifted under the tent from men smoking a shared pipe; the tobacco was stronger and sharper on Remus's nose then the smoke of English cigarettes.

At the hastily erected booth beside Remus stood a man dressed completely in black; black Oxford with a pressed collar, black trousers that had maintained their crease despite the crushing heat, longish black hair framing a face of exceptional pallor. Severus's eyes were hidden behind opaque black sunglasses, his feet strapped into thin soled black sandals. He was haggling in faultless Arabic with another man, who was wearing a long checkered scarf adhered to his head with a black band. Glancing up momentarily, Severus turned towards Remus. Without acknowledging him, he turned back to his discussion, his accent immaculate.

"You smell like you haven't bathed in a week," said Severus in his usual clipped English accent as he turned towards Lupin a few moments later. He handed the man across from him several crumpled Muggle bills and pocketed the thick gold wrist cuff he had purchased. Sniffing, he wrinkled his nose. "More like two weeks."

"It's lovely to see you again too, Severus," Remus answered with good cheer as he brushed away the sand that had collected in the folds of his white linen shirt and khaki trousers. "I do beg your pardon, but I've just walked four miles through the desert. I take it you Apparated here directly?"

Shaking his head impatiently, Severus gestured towards a camel, tied to a bit of scrub brush with a leather strap. "I rode a camel, of course," he answered with disdain, as though any fool with half a brain could have figured it out on their own. "Typical desert transport."

Coughing to cover up the irrepressible urge to laugh at the mental image of Severus Snape astride a camel, Remus nodded. The camel spat upon the ground, it's attitude of irreverence so similar to Severus's own that Remus could not hide his smile. "I see. No cars to steal out this way?"

"Nor roads, as you can plainly see, unless you've gone blind as well as daft," Severus retorted smoothly, his head held high. "I have neither the time nor inclination for chatter, Remus. I summoned you because I have a report to make and a question to ask, and this pointless babble is getting us no closer to solving either matter. Follow me."

Amused, Remus followed Severus's quicker pace across the sand until they came to the largest tent structure, which had two solid walls and a flapping cloth ceiling. It was far cooler inside, despite the crowding of people, animals and items for sale. The wolf part in Remus unconsciously scented the air for danger, but the blend of exotic smells and the blur of movement was too much for him to detect anything. People moved through the melee, their voices raised as they haggled and debated, or shouted out a description of their wares. Remus saw a stand with fruit and vegetables, several selling cooked and raw meats, a group of children trying to market their goats, tables of all manner of jewelry, clothing and art.

Ignoring it all, Severus guided Remus through the market, pausing to buy cups of tea. It was a heady brew, all spices and little water. Remus sipped it greedily, worn out from his excursion. "I didn't know that you spoke Arabic."

Removing his sunglasses, Severus rolled his eyes heavenward. "What you don't know would fill all the libraries of Europe, I'm sure." Glancing away he looked for a secluded spot. "There," he said, indicating a corner out of the way of traffic. They moved through the crowds, Severus using his elbows to jostle others, Remus politely excusing himself with every foot he trod upon and every arm he brushed against. Finally they reached the open space and sank down to the sandy ground.

Shaking the remaining granules of sand from his hair, Remus turned to Severus. Severus, however, was staring at an American tourist with reddish curls slipping from her straw hat. She leaned over a display of abayas, ruffling through them so quickly that the gold bangles on her arm clanged together musically. Without blinking, Severus observed her progress, the interest evident on his face. Remus had never seen him so fascinated with anything except rare potions. "Severus?"

"What?" Severus snapped, tearing his eyes away from the tourist, who moved on to admire hammered rings of silver.

"You summoned me?" Remus questioned, taking a long drink tea.

Blowing on the cup to cool the beverage, Severus nodded thoughtfully. Without reply, he drew a packet of Jordan almonds from his pocket and ate them, chewing reflectively.

"You came by way of Jordan?" Remus asked, puzzled. Severus was a confusing creature, surrounded by intentional mystery, but a holiday in Jordan was unusual even for him. _Especially for him_, Remus's mind corrected. Severus despised the sun and the heat, both of which were prevalent in Jordan.

With a weary sigh, like a mother who has answered the same question repeatedly and has been asked once more by her whiny children, Severus explained. "Voldemort has not summoned me for a week. I need someplace to sleep, and I cannot return to Hogwarts for the time being. Lucius Malfoy suspects me. Don't ask how I know," he said, waving away the question that formed on Remus's lips. "Suffice to say I do. I have been instructed by Voldemort to leave my position as a professor. If I return to the school my cover will be blown. Hogwarts is being watched; I'd have no chance of slipping in unnoticed even if I wanted to. The rent in Jordanian hostels is astonishingly inexpensive."

Disappointed by the news but not at all shocked, Remus nodded. He and Dumbledore has discussed the inevitable eventuality over the past few days. Voldemort, for his many faults, was not a fool. He was bound to notice a consistent leak and to figure out that Severus was a spy. "Return to the school with me, Severus. You'll be safe there. Dumbledore has asked that I persuade you to return; continuing in this capacity is dangerous."

"I have no interest in discussing the matter with you. My mind is made up. I will continue to pose as a Death Eater to gather information for as long as it proves useful, which is precisely why I've summoned you here. I will no longer be able to make direct reports to Dumbledore and the Order; I require a reliable contact to whom I can make reports without arousing suspicion." Severus glanced up, his eyes dark and impressive.

"Severus, I --," Remus started to say before he was cut off.

"Think before you answer," Severus directed. "Think carefully. I may have to summon you at inconvenient times; once Lucius Malfoy forgives my latest transgression I'll have precious little privacy. Don't ask," he added, as Remus's brow creased with concern. "I'll also warn you that it will be dangerous. If the enemy senses I am reporting my information to anyone, they'll attempt to capture and kill my contact. I am discreet, but caution is no guarantee of safety."

Every nerve in Remus's body twitched, commanding him to launch himself at Severus and drag the man kicking and screaming back to Hogwarts._ Let Dumbledore deal with his suicidal madness and come what may_, Remus thought, but a deeper part of him contested. Severus was driven in a way few others were, in the way Sirius had been, led by bitter determination and a will that was unstoppable. If Remus denied him this, Severus would carry the resentment to the grave. In any case, it wouldn't work. Severus would slip away from the school and return to spying, which would surely cost him his life.

His gentle hazel eyes met Severus's harsh black ones as he considered the proposition. He did not want Severus to hate him, that much he was sure of. Remus wanted nothing in the world so much to be liked, and Severus's civility, his trust, were more valuable to Remus then he could easily explain. If he destroyed this chance, the fragile bridge of friendship they had begun to build would shatter. The alternative, condoning and even supporting Severus's spying, was just as dangerous. If he was lucky, Severus would die a quick death in the far future; unlucky, he would die a painful, torturous one soon. Drawing a deep breath, Remus nodded slowly. He had battled with the same question when Sirius had voiced his intention to go with the Order to defend Harry. Remus had wanted badly to protect Sirius, whom he loved even more then he loved Harry, but he'd known then that it was Sirius's choice to make, not his own. "I'll do it, Severus, on one condition."

"Which is?" Severus questioned coldly, his eyes sceptical.

"That you will return to Hogwarts when your time runs out, or try. I understand that you are willing to lay your life on the line, and it is honourable, but when you are found out, if you have any chance, come back to Hogwarts. I've already -- just, promise me you will try," Remus answered quickly, cutting off what he was about to say. Severus wouldn't care that he, Remus, had lost too many people already. It would only embarrass and infuriate the other man. Remus knew what Severus would say, in any case. He'd declare Remus childish in his concern and become angry that anyone cared about him, which was Severus's way. "Please try."

Thoughtfully, Severus gazed past the throng to the edge of the tent, peering out on the desert. In the distance the pyramids thrust upwards towards the purple tinged sky. A handful of sand twirled, captured momentarily in a pocket of air. "If you insist," Severus said, which was his way of agreeing.

"I do," Remus answered quickly, draining the remainder of his tea. "I will help you if your work benefits Harry, but I won't agree to anything if this is a suicide mission. The fact that you insist on doing this without the Order's blessing or Dumbledore's supervision makes me uncomfortable enough. You are valuable to the Order and to Harry's survival, but only if you keep your wits about you and protect yourself."

"I do not need to be taught lessons in survival by you," Severus retorted, but his comment was without malice. "I am sufficiently informed in the worthlessness of a dead man. Something else, we must devise a code. If I am captured or discovered, the Dark Lord may attempt to trick you into coming to him. There must be a way for me to convey that it is truly me, should that unfortunate happening occur. "

"Rowena Ravenclaw's lace edged knickers," Remus answered promptly, unable to disguise the mirth he felt at the phrase. "We can also use it if you're in trouble and need assistance."

Stormily, Severus's eyes settled on Remus without a trace of amusement. "How did you know about that?" he inquired angrily.

"Oh, come now, Severus," Remus replied, smiling. "Sirius and James used to spy on your lot constantly. We knew most everything there was to know about Slytherin, including your favourite swear. What say you, shall we apply it to this case? If you were being watched, no one knowing you would think twice of you using it, and yet it's unusual. No one would say it on accident."

"Potter and Black," Severus declared, his voice icy. "They can thank their lucky stars they're dead. Being skinned alive seems sufficient punishment for never allowing me a moment's peace, the bastards. Very well, Rowena Ravenclaw's lace edged knickers it is," Severus said, his face straight.

Ordering himself not to giggle, Remus nodded. He hoped that if the time came he would be able to overhear the phrase without bursting into peals of laughter. "If you're in trouble, contact me with that phrase. I'll alert Dumbledore immediately."

"If I'm in trouble, I highly doubt I'll be at liberty to pen an owl for you or go shouting into your fireplace," Severus reminded him. "Were I able, you'd no doubt have a girlish laughing fit before you sent any rescue, by which time I'll likely be dead."

"That's what I appreciate about you, Severus, your optimism," Remus answered, but in his heart he knew it was true. If, _when_ Severus was captured, all the preparations in the world would not be able to aid him. Voldemort's wrath against innocents was notorious; he'd have no qualms utterly destroying a traitor. He frowned.

"Get a hold on yourself Remus," Severus answered. "I was informed that werewolves were prone to emotional outbursts, but your bipolar mood swings are in another league entirely. In case you have forgotten, I had a report to make."

Remus nodded. "Please, go on."

Narrowing his eyes, Severus searched Remus's face, wondering if Remus was trying to joke with him. After a moment he continued. "Voldemort has set a date for the attack on Hogwarts. Preparations are being made to launch the assault two weeks from now. Potter is to be killed on the spot; apparently Voldemort is tired of cat and mouse games and does not intend to capture the child or toy with him. He should be removed from Hogwarts promptly, tonight, Remus, if at all possible."

"Tonight?" Remus questioned. "But, there are no plans for his evacuation yet." Musing, he considered. "Perhaps he could be placed at the Burrow. The Weasleys consider him family, I'm sure there would be no objection."

"No," Severus said quickly. "The Weasleys are being watched; Voldemort knows he has eliminated all of Potter's non-Muggle relatives and is aware of the bond between Potter and the Weasley family. In any case, the Burrow is without protection, no wards, few protective charms. Voldemort would have open access to the house."

"12 Grimmauld Place?" suggested Remus. "The Black estate is one of the most well protected homes I know. It's Unplottable, Severus, protected by Dumbledore as the secret keeper."

Severus looked down at the dregs of his tea as if he was a tasseomancer searching for signs in the wet leaves. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his temples. "Perhaps. Take the matter to Dumbledore, I trust he has given the matter considerable thought. Irregardless, he will need to be placed with guards, not alone. Recruit at least five members of the Order for his defence; if he is found he doesn't stand a chance, but we ought to take the appearance of protection in any case."

_Not Harry, don't take Harry too_, Remus prayed within his mind. He had lost everyone he had ever loved already -- Sirius, Lily, James, his parents, even the traitorous Peter, the list went on. He could not bear to lose another. When he had first come to Hogwarts as a professor and met Harry, Remus had tried to erect a wall, fearing connection. _Let my heart in lone seclusion hoard its rapture and its pain_, his mind had whispered, repeating a bit of the poem that had once been his favourite. Getting close to Harry was risky, especially given Harry's unusual circumstances. He had been unable to resist, however. Harry reminded him so of James. They had become close; Harry had grown to trust and respect Remus. He could not stand losing Harry too.

"I'll alert Dumbledore," Remus said finally, his voice husky as he spoke. "I should go now, if it is as urgent as you say, Severus."

Without comment Severus rose, leading Remus through the crowds once more. They emerged from the tent into the brilliant flash of sunlight, the sand like fire underfoot as Severus led the way to his tethered camel. He climbed on board, looking for all the world like a sultan with his comfortable pose.

"Take care of yourself, Severus," Remus urged as he backed away from the camel.

Contemptuous, Severus glared down at Remus for a moment. Then he put on his black sunglasses and whistled thinly through his teeth, prompting the camel onwards. "Go home and bathe, Remus, you smell like a used athletic sock," he snapped. Then the camel was moving, it's feet hurtling across the desert, kicking up sand until Severus Snape became a mere black dot on the horizon.


	4. Chapter Four

_The werewolf is late again_, Severus noted with a marked lack of surprise. Damn Remus anyway, always showing up breathless and twenty minutes late only to make continued excuses about his busy life and how he simply couldn't get away before he got those fourth year essays graded. _As if,_ Severus frowned at the thought, _as if his life is anything near the complicated web mine is fast becoming. _He had blood on his hands, though it was mostly washed off so no one would notice unless the scrutinised and saw the stains under his fingernails. There was also a large, hand-print shaped bruise on one cheek which was fast becoming a completely unacceptable shade of purple and to top it off he had been followed for the last half of an hour by a small cluster of raggedy Muggle children, beseeching him for coins. At least the Muggle compact disc player (he thought that was the name) worked. It was currently blasting a wild form of music Severus had not heard in the wizarding world but took to immediately nonetheless, which was giving everyone around him a splitting headache as it blared from his headphones. The volume made Severus himself smile.

"Now you can go where people are one, now you can go where they get things done," Severus sang tunelessly in a low voice as he meandered through the streets, giving dirty looks to the men garbed in what appeared to be flaming orange togas. They were standing there, doing nothing at all, yet foolish Muggles with rapturous expressions on their faces were giving them bowls of rice. Severus glared. He had never subscribed to a very strong work ethic, but he did not understand why such lazy people ought to be rewarded. _Muggles_, he thought, shaking his head, _they really are crazy_. He continued past, murmuring the lyrics to the song that was playing. It was really quite catchy, for a Muggle tune. "What you need my son, what you need my son, is a holiday in Cambodia."

Out of the corner of his eye Severus saw Remus Lupin gaping at him. The professor looked even more careworn then usual, his hair streaked with what was undeniably grey and his clothes faded as if they had been washed far too many times. His seemed fine, however, except for the fact that his mouth was moving as though he was shouting.

"I cannot hear you," Severus informed him haughtily, humming under his breath. "It's a holiday in Cambodia, where you'll do what you're told."

Remus shook his head, gesturing wildly.

"I said, I can't hear you, you stupid git," Severus snapped loudly.

Impatient looking, Remus reached forward and pulled the headphones away from Severus's ears. "You were not really just singing _'Holiday in Cambodia'_ were you?" Remus demanded, looking stricken.

"Why shouldn't I?" Severus countered. "We _are_ in Cambodia, after all, though I would not refer to this as a holiday." He shook his head. Why on earth had he chosen Lupin of all people to be his contact within the Order? Taking a quick mental inventory of the members, Severus shrugged, deciding Remus was the best one after all. Arthur Weasley would never pay attention to the reports Severus gave them while they were in the Muggle world, Molly would fret and bemoan Severus's fate, Nymphadora..._well_, Severus thought to himself with a smirk, _she did not bear that name for nothing_. He wondered momentarily if she would try to seduce him if they were contacts together and made himself a mental note to spend more time around her in order to find out. _Not that I can stand her, of course_, _half-blood filth_, he thought to himself with a righteous nod, _but she is a Metamorphmagus. Maybe she can make herself look like Lily_. For a moment he wondered why other Mudbloods and half-bloods sickened him when Evans never had. Then he glanced up into Remus's impatient golden stare and pushed the thought away.

"Severus," Remus began, but he settled for shaking his head in a disgusted way and clicking his tongue against his teeth. After a minute he sighed. "I didn't know you liked the Dead Kennedys."

Blinking in confusion, Severus frowned, wondering how by Merlin anyone as mild as Remus Lupin, whose idea of adventure was consuming tea and lemon tarts with wolfish ferocity, could possibly know anything about the music Severus had just been listening to.

A moment later, Severus guessed his face must have betrayed his absolute shock, for Remus smiled a little smile that did not quite reach up to his copper-coloured eyes and shrugged, replying with the familiar answer Severus was already tiring of. "Sirius liked it a lot. I guess it rubbed off on me."

"You and Black," Severus spat, shaking his head. What had the werewolf seen in someone like Sirius Black? _Sirius Black who tried to murder me_, his mind whispered hatefully, _the vicious bastard_.

"Does it bother you, Severus?" Remus questioned, his expression open and kind. Concern glinted in his eyes as he surveyed the other man.

Severus could not help but notice that no judgement was harboured there in Remus's eyes. _Another reason to choose him as a contact_, Severus's mind informed him quietly. Severus received more then his fair share of judgement and hostility, he did not need to face even more when delivering vital information to the Order. "Why should it bother me?" Severus inquired, his voice hostile.

"I'm not sure," Remus admitted with the same understanding look. "Why don't you tell me?"

It was an offer, not a challenge, Severus noted. An invitation to speak his mind without being either told what to do or criticised for his own opinions; it was a rare thing nowadays. Even Dumbledore had become meddlesome, dipping his long nose into Severus's affairs and twisting his own feelings against him. _Like his comment about Lily_, Severus thought, his hands clenching at the memory. _Of all the things Albus Dumbledore will never understand, the fool._ "I hate Black," Severus declared with emphasis after a moment. "Hated him then, hate him still. I trust I do not have to supply you the multitude of reasons."

"No, you don't," agreed Remus calmly. "I recall numerous times when Sirius mistreated you. You are justified in your dislike of him, for all the good it does you. Do you feel the same hatred of me?"

"Why would I?" Severus asked, puzzled. He thought back to his school days, painful and embarrassing though they were to remember. Life back then had been a constant progression between one tormented moment to the next; even now, many years later the humiliation sometimes bit into him as he taught. For all the incidents he could recall of Black and Potter teasing him or worse, he could not remember a single time Remus had participated. "You never took part in Black's little games."

Nodding slowly, Remus cast his eyes down. "Yes, well, I let him get away with it. I was a prefect and I never -- anyway," he finished, taking a breath. "I had a responsibility to look out for everyone, not just my friends. I believe I failed in that."

Severus shrugged. "I doubt it matters greatly in the scheme of things, Remus. There is a war on, in case you've forgotten. Petty childhood torments are not really much of a factor in my life anymore." _Liar_, his mind hissed, but Severus had tired of his own thoughts speaking out against him. He ignored the subtle, serpentine hiss of his own subconscious, his eyes cold as he forced himself not to dwell. "Murdering innocents has a fascinating way of putting a disappointing childhood into perspective."

"Forgive me if I continue to take responsibility," Remus answered quietly. "I feel -- and you may doubt this, Severus, but I feel it nonetheless -- partially at fault for the choices you made upon leaving school. Perhaps if I had stopped James and Sirius...well, only you know the answer to that." He paused, looking serious and a bit nostalgic. "I would like to offer my hand to you in friendship now. Whatever you thought of my friends and I in school is over now. They are dead, I'm not. Besides, I cannot speak for you, but there are times when I could use the company." His eyes glistened in the sunlight, brighter then usual as he held out his hand.

Narrowing his eyes, Severus tried to figure out whether or not it was a trap. What could the werewolf, _Remus_, his mind corrected, possibly want to be friends for? For a few moments he stood silent, torn between conflicting parts of himself. He thought back to his years as a student, of the various people had approached with a similar offer his first year, how many times he had been turned down. By third year he had quit trying, preferring, or so he had told himself, the cold isolation of the classroom. Remus stood before him now, his eyes filled with warring emotions and hope, and Severus knew that he had finally found someone willing to offer their own hand, willing to face rejection to befriend him. And not just anyone either, but Remus Lupin, whom even Severus had to grudgingly admit was intelligent and good natured. He took Remus's hand, giving it a quick shake before pulling away from the touch as if burned. "Fine. Friends then," he managed to say without sneering, although that self-protective part tried quite hard to twist his lips into the familiar expression. He settled for looking contemptuous and bored. "That's finished."

"Yes," Remus agreed. He looked very relieved, which surprised Severus. Had the werewolf -- _His name is Remus_, snapped his mind, _come on Severus_ -- had Remus honestly expected Severus would turn him down? Remus had always struck Severus as rather solitary, but never as fearful. He wondered if his perfected look of disdain had actually become convincing as time wore on.

"I still have a report to deliver," Severus said to cover the awkwardness of the moment. "Friends or not, it would be preferable if we could stop wasting time rehashing pointless schoolboy memories."

"Good idea," Remus said quickly, letting out a nervous breath. He had been convinced that Severus would deliver his usual contemptuous obloquy the moment Remus stuck out his hand, but on the whole, the other man was behaving quick nicely. _Severus and punk music_, Remus mused._ I must remember that; works better then a sedative. It must help with those rage issue of his._ "Would you like a drink? I'm dying of thirst."

"Werewolves have a tendency to dehydrate quicker then regular wizards," Severus stated firmly, glad for the opportunity to share a bit of the knowledge he had picked up studying the Dark Arts over the years in hopes of securing the job he so desperately wanted. He did not miss the hint of a smile on Remus's lips. _Of course he knows that._ "I noticed a bar a ways back."

Twenty minutes later there they were, sitting opposite one another in bamboo stools while Severus laid out the Dark Lord's latest plan and Remus took copious notes on a pile of crumpled napkins. To his credit, the bartender only looked at them once, apparently choosing not to notice the rather canine air of the man with the ethereal eyes scribbling on ragged bits of paper with a peacock feather quill. Severus sipped an elaborate concoction of fruit juices and wine decorated with cherries speared on a pink paper umbrella, his eyes dark and oppressive as if daring Remus to make a sly comment. Remus politely refrained and settled for sipping his tea.

"I suppose Dumbledore has not made the least headway into planning an evacuation of Hogwarts," Severus mused aloud. "The ignorant fool, cowering behind those optimistic beliefs of his."

Remus shrugged, swatting at a mosquito that buzzed past. "Albus has never steered us wrong, Severus. I have trust in him. He'll take the proper precautions, but he must move slowly, discreetly. As you yourself said, the school is now full of Voldemort's spies. If any of the children loyal to him indicate trouble with the plans they will know there has been a leak."

Severus sneered, unable to disguise his contempt for the Headmaster anymore. "And Potter? He's not been moved either, has he?" At Remus's apologetic look Severus glared, crushing his hand into a fist. "Albus cannot wait much longer. Does he not understand the danger Potter is in? I cannot be at Voldemort's side every moment like Lucius Malfoy is. What if Voldemort issues the order for Lucius's son Draco to kill Potter, what then? All this effort will be for naught."

"I'm certain --"

"But I'm not," Severus cut Remus off, his lips drawn back as he bared his teeth in conscious frustration. He slapped the table with one hand, ignoring the sting of pain through his jolted bones. "Does he believe I am here risking my life for fun? I continue to warn him of encroaching danger, and instead of moving Potter -- there are a million ways," he said abruptly, changing gears. "Pretend Potter is hospitalised. Pretend one of his Muggle family members died. Expel him, something! Instead, the inane plan is to leave him open and unprotected, where any time Draco Malfoy draws his wand --"

"He is not unprotected," Remus said reassuringly. "Severus, the Headmaster understands why you are out here, spying for us. He knows you mean to save Harry, he knows why..." Remus trailed off, suddenly wishing he could clap a hand over his mouth and catch the words.

Not one to miss even the most subtle hints, Severus looked over at Remus crossly. "What does he know?"

_We might have sent a drunken Hagrid out to keep secrets about dangerous beasts, for all the restraint I'm using,_ Remus criticised himself. He sat up straighter, as if the improved posture would provide him a larger man's courage. "Albus understands your reasons for protecting Harry," he explained delicately after a moment, wishing he was sitting opposite someone less perceptive then Severus Snape.

Keeping his rage in check, Severus's voice dropped a few degrees as he looked into Remus's eyes. "And what might those reasons be? Did he share them with you, Lupin?"

_Back to last names, not a good sign_. Remus cursed inwardly. It was not his fault that Dumbledore tended to talk a great deal in the evenings, nor that Remus had been asked to tea several times since Severus's unexpected departure from the school. Albus trusted Remus, for which he was thankful, and also confided in him, which put Remus at risk. he took a deep breath, tasting sand and sweat on the air. "He spoke to me, very briefly, about your...connection with Harry's mother."

"He told you about Lily?" Severus gasped, losing his composure in front of Remus for the first time since James and Sirius had removed his underclothes in front of the school. He looked just as vulnerable, furious and hurt as that time, Remus reflected with apprehension. Severus appeared to curl over himself, guarding his secret protectively. "What did he tell you?" Severus hissed, fighting with himself to display no feelings as all, as if his most precious secret had not been trotted out before the werewolf. _Remus_, his mind said firmly, _and at least it's him...what if someone else knew_? "Who else was privy to Albus's speculations about my private life?"

Remus had never been a very skilled liar so he did not even attempt to deny the truth to the hostile, injured looking man before him. "Albus discussed briefly the reasons for your continued work as a spy, intending me to understand so I could convince you it was unnecessary. No one else has been told, so as I know." He sighed. "Severus...it's not as though I didn't know."

"You -- what?"

"I was one of Lily's closest friends in school, even before she and James started dating seventh year. She told me a great deal."

"She...she spoke of me?" The question was nervous, hopeful, utterly different then the Severus Remus had come to know so well. He was not sneering or glaring; for once, Remus could see a flicker of something deeper in Severus's eyes, hidden behind the impressive fortress he had built around himself.

"Yes," Remus nodded. "Often."

"Often," Severus repeated as if tasting the word in his mouth. He was very pale, his skin lighter then usual. "Often? And what," he returned to his protective sneer. "What did she say?"

Sensing Severus's vulnerability, Remus wished they did not have to continue the conversation. Thoughts of Lily were obviously difficult for Severus to bear without pain. For a moment, Remus closed his eyes, remembering Lily. Her head had been bowed as if in terrible guilt and confession, the wind had whipped her red hair into a long bright flag behind her as they sat on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, leaning against trees that twisted towards the sky like angry claws. She had been crying on that occasion, although normally she smiled; Lily Evans had been a person in good cheer, though leaning towards a more serious side. Sometimes even now Remus wondered what had prompted her to take such a wild and reckless husband as James. On that day her lashes had been dark and wet against her skin, and her body shook with sobs she tried to suppress. "Remus, he called me a Mudblood -- a _Mudblood_! I've been kind to him and he hates me."

Remus remembered his own response too, as he was patting Lily's back and trying to get her to stop crying. Even now he could feel his heart breaking for her; she had been so sad, hurt by the sharp, stinging insult that not only belittled her but all her family, her history, her very blood. "He doesn't, Lily, he was just hurt and angry." _How I'd known that feeling_, Remus thought now with a bittersweet smile. Sometimes, transforming back to a human man from a wolf state Remus had been the same, snapping and snarling, his body wracked with the pain of attacks and merciless expenditure of energy required for transformation, sore from cuts and bruises, so ashamed of himself that he had given everyone a wide berth. He'd even shouted insults and shoved Sirius from him on one terrible occasion. He remembered the stinging of guilt in his chest, the feeling of suffocating with self-hatred and humiliation, naked and bruised. On that day he had patted Lily's hair and whispered all the platitudes, but nothing helped, not that he had honestly expected it would. Kind-hearted Lily rarely cried, but being caught by one of the worst insults in the Wizarding world by someone she had taken a bit of an interest in had been hard for her.

"It varied with the day," Remus said finally, as Severus's force of will dragged him out of the memory. "Look...perhaps..."

"Absolutely," Severus agreed with a sturdy nod. _Often...Great Merlin on his broom, I'm acting like a schoolboy with a crush. She's dead._ He shook his head, his hair whipping out of his eyes as he scowled and snapped his fingers at the barman, suddenly needing another drink. "The -- ah, the Malfoy boy. Draco," Severus spat with malice. "He has been trained."

"Trained?" Remus questioned, his mind fumbling to make sense of the words now that his train of thought lay in ruins. Then it hit him. "Draco Malfoy has been taught the Killing curse?" He could not disguise the sudden deflated feeling in his lungs that left him momentarily struggling to take in oxygen. Recoiling, he shook his head. "That cannot be."

As if reading a book that had been left open to a particularly interesting page, Severus looked Remus full in the eyes, attempting to glean the information hidden within. "I wonder," he drawled after a moment, pleased to have regained not only his personal control but an upper hand in the conversation. "Why does that surprise you so, Remus? Young Malfoy is the spitting image of his father, Lucius, and I trust you recall Lucius's legend to our fine institution of learning."

Remus nodded. He had been a meek first year with his nose perpetually stuck in a book when Lucius Malfoy had ruled the school, but even he had overheard the rumours, whispered fearfully in the corridors. Due to his exceptional hearing Remus had picked up on many of the circulating myths, tales that told of Lucius stealing student's pets and sacrificing them in bizarre Dark Arts rituals, stories that claimed Lucius was responsible for the disappearance of Floria Bennet, a third year Muggle-born Hufflepuff who had gotten lost on her first Hogsmeade weekend and was never heard of again. Back then Lucius had had it all -- incredible wealth, devastatingly handsome good looks, great power and a family name that cowed others into submission.

It was true; Draco did bear some resemblance to his father. They had very similar features, although Draco was smaller, more delicate and refined looking then Lucius's brute elegance. He had his father's wealth and influence backing him as well, just as Lucius had had, but Draco made use of it far differently, running to his father instead of fighting his own battles, much less initiating anything serious. Draco was a petty tyrant, a school yard bully whose sarcastic wit had fallen flat some months earlier, when even Harry, his enemy, had no longer found him the least bit threatening. He was currently regarded by much of the staff as a nuisance, a fly they longed to swat, nothing like the powerful and frightening image his father had been and, in fact, still was. Lucius had been mad, Remus was thoroughly convinced of that. He had done everything; drunk blood, cast Unforgivable curses without the slightest concern that the victim would go tattling, stolen, lied, abused his privilege. Draco was of different stock; a very tormented young man, struggling in the shadow of his powerful father. Remus could understand how Severus might consider them similar, but he did not for the life of him believe Draco to be capable of the depths Lucius had accomplished. Killing fellow students, even those he bickered with and bullied, seemed beyond the reach of the embittered Slytherin.

Taking a long, reflective sip of hot tea, Remus bit his lip, considering. It was all very well for Severus to hate the boy, which he no doubt did, especially after years of having to pretend ultimate loyalty to the Malfoy family. Such things got on one's nerves and Draco was likely not an easily student to have. He struck Remus has high-maintenance. However, for all his flaws, Remus doubted that blame and scrutiny would help the young man at all. Draco needed something, discipline at times and therapy for sure, but not to be blamed for his psychotic father. Remus wondered what the right step would be. Should the young man be dismissed from Hogwarts? On what charge, speculation? Bearing a now-infamous name?

Certainly, if Draco posed a danger he would need to be removed from the school, but if he didn't? Somehow, Remus thought Lucius would not be inclined to be sympathetic if Draco was sent home before he had the chance to do damage. With a start, Remus realised he had seen the same purple blue shadows Severus bore under Draco's eyes as well; the usual marks of the Cruciatus Curse victim. Remus sighed. Should he trust the boy and risk Harry's safety, not to mention everyone else's, or should he take a precaution that may likely be unnecessary and send Draco back to his father? Could he, Remus, live with himself if he sent an innocent boy home to be destroyed by Lucius once he was no longer useful? _No more_, he thought tiredly. He was sick of choosing. "Your recommendation, Severus?"

Growling low in his throat in a way that reminded Remus slightly of Sirius when he was angry, Severus sneered. "Bring him to a quiet corner and Avada --"

"Severus!" Genuinely shocking Remus Lupin was a rather difficult thing to do, but Severus had managed it. Twice, in fact, the first shock had come when he had agreed to befriend Remus instead of casting Crucio on him and leaving him to writhe. "We cannot kill him. For all we know he is innocent. He's done nothing."

"That's it, harbour a serpent in your hen-house," Severus replied with disgust. "He is seventeen years old, armed with knowledge of the Killing Curse and bearing a long-term grudge towards Potter. I suggest, Remus, that you take over the god-fatherly duties where Black left off and protect the boy instead of worry about injustice to a Malfoy."

Remus nodded thoughtfully, watching the dregs float around in the small bit of remaining liquid in his teacup. "So you are suggesting pity for the young man's predicament is out of line?" he asked, by way of stalling.

"I am," Severus answered without hesitation. "Irregardless of your bleeding heart some people in the world do not deserve second chances. I think that goes double for the Malfoy family."

"And triple for you?" Remus questioned, his golden eyes hurt and a little apologetic, as if he knew how much the comment would injure Severus but could not restrain himself from uttering it.

Furiously, Severus scowled at Remus. "Spare me your judgements for the moment, Lupin, particularly when you are in the middle of defending Draco Malfoy to me. Do you know what the boy is? I was there when he was trained and when he demonstrated his proficiency in the Killing Curse before the Dark Lord. The look in his eyes -- he was drunk on power, eager to kill. He loved it."

Sinking back in his chair, Severus rested his elbows on the table, his hands covering his face as he caught his breath. Too clearly he remembered his first time performing the spell on something larger then an insect; the heady rush, the thrill of it, an excited shiver in his stomach as he had realised he possessed the power to take life with a flick of his wand and a bit of hateful concentration. And when he had discovered he had the power to take another human life, that first time, it had been orgasmic. Yet here he sat, discussing with Remus Lupin how they ought to remove Draco and send him to his father, where he would have the honour of being target practise, most likely. He, Severus Snape, who knew exactly what Draco felt...well, close enough. His own drunkard father had not initiated Severus into the service of the Dark Lord. Lucius had done it in his place, teaching him everything, and here he was thinking about killing someone he understood absolutely.

"I shall speak to Dumbledore on the matter," supplied Remus as he watched Severus massage his temples. "Certainly any decision we made would need to be approved of by him anyway. Perhaps there is a way, Legilemency, Veritaserum..."

"Perhaps," Severus answered with a little nod. He felt completely stiff, each muscle in his body aching from tension. It was an old feeling, familiar, but that did not stop the pain. "Dumbledore will determine a solution." His shoulders sagged in relief; he would not have to seal anyone's fate. He hated Draco Malfoy, the snotty little brat, nearly as much as he despised Harry. _And both for their fathers, oh the irony, Severus_, declared his mind with a derisive laugh. However, for all his bluster and cold commentary he was reluctant to be the one that sent Draco to his doom. Severus could imagine only too well what Draco would suffer at his father's hands if he returned home having failing his duty to Voldemort.

As luck would have it, Remus happened upon Draco Malfoy the very next evening before ever having a chance to discuss the matter with Dumbledore. As he climbed the stairs to his own quarters to shower and change clothes before dinner, Remus noticed a flash of pale, silvery hair. He turned, his sharp eyes zeroing in on Draco, who was lounging casually against the wall right outside of the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was gawking at him with unflattering shock.

Remus felt his heart skip a beat. He wanted to give the young man the benefit of the doubt, but what could Draco be planning that was not malicious? There was no doubt in Remus's mind that Draco was waiting for Harry and his friends to emerge from the portrait hole, famished and eager to go down to dinner, for Draco had never been known to speak to any other Gryffindors except for Neville Longbottom, whom he occasionally insulted when bored. What Draco wanted with them was another matter. If he had come to taunt and tease them, well, it would not be okay but it was better then the alternative, that Draco was biding his time until his Killing curse targets emerged from safety, distracted and defenceless. Fear for Harry bloomed in Remus's chest and he turned, going back to the landing.

"Mr Malfoy?" he inquired kindly a moment later. "I trust I find you well. I would like a word with you in my office, now, if you are not otherwise engaged."

Still leaning against the wall, Draco glared. "As it happens, Professor," he drawled sarcastically, for he had never considered Professor Lupin an educator in his own right. "I am busy. Not all of us have the copious amounts of free-time you apparently have. If you make an appointment I might find time." Glancing towards the Fat Lady he mentally willed the portrait to swing open, revealing Harry, hopefully alone. He needed a word with Potter, though the mere thought of it made his palms sweat and his muscles tense with anxiety and anticipation.

He finished his words with a sneer, still glaring hatefully at Remus. Draco had never cared for the man who stood before him. Allowing a werewolf to teach Hogwarts students was an affront to his values; on that Draco agreed wholeheartedly with his father. Such beasts ought to be exterminated, not left in control of children. The poverty the werewolf was accustomed to was another reason for Draco's dislike. He did not believe it was correct for someone poorer then him to attempt to teach him anything. That Remus's robes fit him perfectly, as if they had been specially tailored for him long ago, meant nothing to Draco in light of the patches the robes now bore. The almost pitying glint in the werewolf's eyes goaded him even more. The idea that Lupin should appear almost sorry for him got on Draco's nerves.

For someone with an uncontrollable beast within, Remus did a splendid job of keeping his temper in check. Draco's defiant snub reminded him of Severus and after that thought occurred to him, Remus had a simple time of fighting back his temper and feeling sorry for the child. He was obviously quite angry about something, an emotion that did not bode well for a child supposedly as spoiled and doted upon as Draco was rumoured to be. "I am quite certain you lead what amounts to a terribly busy life at the moment, Mr Malfoy. Nonetheless, I would like to speak with you about. I trust you can wait another day to leap out at Harry and attack him?" Remus's eyes widened a little as Draco reacted. The young man's pale lips went slack with shock for a moment and his silvery eyes glinted with embarrassment. Draco quickly recovered, rolling his eyes dramatically as if to underscore how utterly contemptuous he found Remus to be. At this Remus could not even force himself to hold back a little smile. "Come along."

Dragging the soles of his trainers against the floor Draco followed Remus at a distance, as if bashful to be seen publicly conversing with his professor. The scowl on his face was unmistakable, but Remus did not miss the fact that Draco's usual defiant hiss of "My father!" was absent. Usually the young man played the powerful patriarch card whenever he felt slighted in the least. It was nice to see Draco was not resorting to that tired old tactic; was it too much to hope Draco felt alienated from his father and the expectations of his family? Remus decided to pose some carefully angled questions to the young man and see if he could sort out the situation. Remus was quite perceptive, all those years of quiet observation had given him an edge when it came to studying people. He had his own brand of understanding which was about as reliable as Legilemency, though his answers were gleaned through thought and focus, not spells.

"Something to drink?" he offered as he unlocked his office door and motioned Draco inside. "I have tea, butterbeer and pumpkin juice."

Instead of replying, Draco sneered as he looked around the office. He had not been in the place since Umbridge had occupied it. Gone were the kitten plates -- "ugly things," Draco whispered at the memory -- and Umbridge's various decrees and parchments were missing as well. In their place were a variety of magical creatures; grindylows in separate tanks, a framed photograph of Sphinx kittens, a leering kappa. Something fluttered in a covered bird-cage.

"Cornish pixies," Remus supplied helpfully, seeing Draco take a hurried step back from the rattling cage. "The second years adore them."

Ignoring the professor, Draco let his gaze fall to the crowded bookshelf. He scanned the titles, surprised to see a good mix of literature among the textbooks. Some of the titles were familiar, the same ones Snape kept in his office. _Or had_, Draco thought, his fists clenching. He turned to face the hateful werewolf, who did not look at all threatening as he stood at his desk brewing tea.

"Go ahead, take a seat," Remus offered, sweeping his arm towards the elegant chairs near the fireplace. The embroidered velvet coverings on them was a bit worn with age, but otherwise they were a handsome set. Remus had taken them from 12 Grimmauld Place, technically his now, in accordance with Sirius's will. When Harry became of age half of the estate would be his, but Remus knew in his heart Harry would want nothing to do with the home that had been Sirius's prison until his death. Remus himself rarely visited it either, except for Order meetings, which were still held there as if to include the late Mr Black's ghost. Sometimes, however, he still found himself drawn back there, particularly on those overcast, grey afternoons when the rainy beat down and the sky darkened to deep grey. On days like that Remus often returned, stepping in to the silent, empty home and breathing the scent of Sirius under the dust, almost hearing his old friend's voice. He turned, smiling at how easily he was able to lose himself in memory. Nodding to Draco, he prompted the boy. "Go on, they won't bite you. How do you take your tea?"

"Sugar," Draco said after a moment as he sank into the chair nearest the fireplace, looking for all the world like he desperately wanted to escape by Floo at that moment. "What is it you wanted, Professor Lupin?" The respectful words were spoken with an acidic voice and Draco did not lose his glare.

Sinking down in the chair opposite, Remus handed the young man a steaming cup of tea. He appraised Draco over the rim of his teacup, watching him frown at the tea and then take a cautious sip, as if he expected Remus had poisoned him. He seemed so edgy, so protective of himself that Remus could not help feeling a rush of sorrow for Draco's predicament. What was it like to have a father like Draco's? Remus guessed Sirius might have understood better, having been raised in a family as noxious and brutal as the Malfoys. Draco was regarding him with a look of blatant hostility, his eyes suspicious and guarded.

For a moment they sat in silence, each drinking their tea. Remus appraised the young man sitting before him. As Severus had pointed out, Draco bore a resemblance to his father but it was not striking up close. They were not nearly identical in appearance as Harry was to James. True, Draco's hair was the precise cream and silver shade of his father's and they both had grey eyes, but Lucius possessed a noble brow, a strong chin and an elegant but dangerous demeanour that Draco did not have. Draco's features were delicate and ornamental, he had an androgynous look about him, almost fragile. Lucius had never looked fragile. Their eyes, despite being the same colour, were not the same either. Lucius's were cold and dead inside, a flat slate grey that only sparkled when he was delighting in someone else's pain. Draco's were faceted with colour and depth, a slightly sparkling mixture of grey hues tinted at the present with stormy blue.

"I must ask," Remus spoke up after a moment. "Why were you standing outside of Gryffindor tower? Were you waiting for someone? I do not mean to pry, I merely found it curious, given that you are not known to be friendly towards any Gryffindor student." He scrutinised Draco for a moment. "Is there anything you would have me know?"

Draco shook his head. "It's none of your business," he declared before turning away, averting his gaze from Remus.

"Fair enough. However, I would have you know that now is not the time to be antagonising Harry Potter. Yes, I know you are long term rivals," he added as Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "I have no intention of ordering you to behave around Harry, but I have to inform you that any action against him at this time would be unwise. As you undoubtedly know, Harry is being pursued by Death Eaters. Given your family's position...it would not be wise," he closed.

For a moment Draco gaped at Remus. Then he snapped his mouth closed, his cheeks reddening. It was a moment before he spoke. "Where is Severus?"

"Professor Snape?" Remus clarified, surprised that the young man would be on first name basis with Severus after the man's harsh comments. "He is no longer employed at Hogwarts, at least for the time being. He supplied the Headmaster with his resignation not long ago, apparently he is on hiatus."

"But you don't know where?"

"Not at the moment, no," Remus answered carefully, so he would not be lying. He did not know at the moment Severus's precise location, though he imagined the other man was still tromping around Cambodia with his punk music. Hiding a smile at the thought, Remus peered at Draco. "Why do you ask?"

"I wanted to owl him," Draco answered sullenly. He glared, feeling very alone and very cold. Severus Snape was one of the few people at Hogwarts who gave a damn about him. Crabbe and Goyle, his two friends and bodyguards, only hung around him because they idolised his last name. Admittedly, Pansy Parkinson was sympathetic towards him. She fawned over him constantly now that he had mastered the Killing Curse, but it was envy motivating her. The Parkinsons were not Death Eaters and she desperately wanted to be, but Pansy could never understand Draco, nor could the half-wits, Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise Zambini seemed to have an inkling of what was going on in his life, but Draco had been warned away from Blaise by his father when the Zambini's had refused to allow Blaise to be taught illegal curses to use in the upcoming battle. None of them mattered to Draco in the least, anyway. Only Severus, who had listened to Draco's complaints with half an ear while grading essays, had provided the much needed companionship Draco craved. Severus understood the pressures, the conflicting feelings, so much more then the werewolf before him could hope to understand in a lifetime, or so Draco guessed.

Heartfelt sorrow made Remus bow his head, looking away from the blonde boy. It was painfully clear that Draco admired Severus, but the Potions professor seemingly wanted him dead. Remus could still hear Severus's steely contempt, his distrust for the young man from his house. To think, the younger Slytherin sought understanding and friendship from the older man who suspected him of being a traitor to the school, in league with Death Eaters.

"I can send an owl to him," Remus offered. "If you'll tell me what it is you want to inquire."

Draco drew away from the invitation, wrapping his arms around himself and looking very melancholy. Professor Lupin, for all his shabbiness, seemed at least kind. Draco wondered for one wavering moment if the man could understand the questions he needed to ask Severus. No, there was no way of trusting the man, even if he did have a pleasant, sympathetic look around the eyes. Hadn't his own father warned him against trusting the werewolf, a loyal member of the Order of the Phoenix. Draco sighed, feeling ripped in half by the pull of his father's judgement and his own desires. "Can I go now?"

"Mr Malfoy...Draco, I wanted to speak to you about something else. Your home life, how is it? I don't mean to stick my nose into your personal affairs, but I cannot help notice you look tired. Are things well at the manor?" Remus paused. "Your school chums still friendly?"

"I guess...look, I don't want to talk about it," Draco said. He frowned. Harry had undoubtedly gone down to dinner now. If Draco was lucky he might be able to catch him on his way back into Gryffindor tower, if the two friends that clung to him like permanent fixtures were absent. That's unlikely, he thought resentfully, mentally picturing Weasley's customary look of hatred and the Mudblood's pitying glare. "If that's all."

Remus peered at Draco for a moment. Then he sighed, not wanting to press the student before he had words with Dumbledore. If Draco suspected something, if Remus's words triggered his anger or his suspicion, the anger bubbling near the surface could be unleashed. While Remus felt fairly confident of his duelling ability, enough to take on a student anyway, he had no desire to inspire mistrust. Not yet anyway, not while Severus was still out there among Voldemort's loyals. It could be costly. "I suppose so," he agreed after a moment. "If you need to speak to anyone, anytime, feel free to come here. I'm awake most nights anyway," he said, smiling. "Go enjoy your dinner."

Wordlessly, Draco got up, leaving quickly without so much as a farewell or a backwards glance. Remus frowned, wondering if he had done the right thing by approaching Draco and then dismissing him so easily. Something in his mind persisted in believing the young man's innocence, but Remus was starting to doubt himself, wondering if his talent for finding the good in others was making him dangerously optimistic and overly hopeful for Draco's decency. With a sigh, he decided he would speak to Harry after dinner. Harry needed to be warned and anyway it was time to speak to the Headmaster, to begin the process of Harry's removal from the school to a safe location. Sensing that some of Severus's urgency had rubbed off on him, Remus smiled to himself a little. He knew how the other man felt; Remus had recently begun dreaming of Lily again, as if her ghost was prompting him to take care of her orphaned son. He dreamt of Sirius often too, though in the dreams Sirius was usually carefree and grinning, not the warning spectre Lily had become. Remus rose from his desk, deciding to venture down to the Great Hall for dinner and to keep an eye on Harry, and uttered a silent acknowledgement to the ghosts of his fallen friends that he was taking his responsibility of surrogate godfather seriously.


	5. Chapter Five

"I'm not going!"

"Harry," said Albus Dumbledore hopefully, "see reason. My boy, you are in grave danger. I do not wish to instill any unnecessary fear, but the facts are startlingly clear. Professor Snape's sources tell him the school is to be attacked – you are the main target. We must remove you to a safe house for the time being, someplace where Voldemort and his followers cannot locate you."

Leaning back in his chair, Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes heavenward. He had always been fond of the Headmaster – it had been Dumbledore who had permitted him to attend Hogwarts as a child and who had laboured to take precautions for the safety of the other students, after all – but he knew the depths of Harry's defiance was practically limitless. The boy was as stubborn as a mule, particularly where issues concerning the nature of his character and the safety of his friends were brought up. _Like Sirius,_ Remus thought to himself with a slight pang of emptiness. _Never willing to sit back and let others do the dirty work._

As if reading Remus' mind, Harry shook his head vigorously and glared at the Headmaster. "If you think Hogwarts is under attack, then make plans to evacuate the entire school, not just me. I don't see what's so special about me."

"The Boy Who Lived," Albus spoke softly. It was the wrong thing to say; Harry's nostrils flared dramatically and he clenched his fists. "I understand your genuine desire to see this battle through, Harry, but certainly you can understand why I cannot set about evacuating the school." When Harry did not reply, he continued, looking grave. A part of him soared with pride at Harry's selflessness while another part mourned it. The boy, he knew, must be kept alive. "Professor Snape's intelligence has informed us that there are spies within the school itself, mostly children of Voldemort loyalists. The moment I take drastic action, Voldemort will be alerted. It will not take long for him to guess the source of the leaked information."

"Snape," spat Harry, making a face that resembled his least favourite professor's customary sneer. "How can you trust him? Snape's made a career out of lying, bullying – Professor, he's hated me my entire life. What makes you think you can believe him? How do you know he won't simply report my location to Voldemort the second I'm outside the school grounds and unprotected?"

Albus bowed his head softly. "I trust him," he said, simply. "And suffice to say I have my reasons. Severus has proved his loyalty time and again. I trust you have not forgotten his dedication to your protection which he has displayed these many years?"

Harry's eyes widened and Remus found himself clutching his cup of tea nervously, waiting for the inevitable explosion of anger from the temperamental young man. Although he agreed with Dumbledore that Severus had taken on the effort of keeping Harry safe, Remus had to agree with Harry that Severus had done a sterling job of keeping that dedication hidden. "Protection?" Harry shouted, his voice reverberating off the stone walls of the inner office and coming back to him all the louder. "Insulting me, tormenting me? You call that protection?"

"He has not demonstrated the affection and nurturing I prefer to see displayed by my staff, no," Dumbledore admitted reluctantly. "But he has come to your aid time and again. I trust that Severus is telling the truth now, and that his motives are good. Remus," he went on, turning to the werewolf who sat in a high-backed chair furtively stowing chocolate biscuits in his pocket. "Perhaps you can explain further?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. Please do." Albus sighed, sitting heavily in a nearby chair.

"Harry," started Remus with a sinking feeling. "I trust you remember my numerous absences of late?" When Harry nodded, he continued. "I have been serving the Order in the one capacity I can, by working at Professor Snape's contact, which sometimes requires me to leave the school at odd hours or be absent for a few days while I collect the information he has to report. Severus has surrendered his post at the school as demanded by Voldemort, but he continues to serve a valuable position for us all – more valuable even, I daresay, than as a Potions instructor and your protector within the school. He has gone underground, pretending to be simply another of Voldemort's loyal Death Eaters, which enables him to collect data on their whereabouts and, more specifically, plans. His work is extremely dangerous; if he were found out, well..." Remus paused significantly, not wanting to voice the fears that had begun keeping him up late at night. "I have met with Severus frequently, Harry, and I trust what he says is true. In your best interest I feel we must acquiesce to his demand that you are relocated."

Harry blinked rapidly, looking positively mutinous. "But – my father. Sirius! Snape hated them and he hates me!"

Remus felt his chest tightening at the mention of Sirius and James, his lost friends. His golden eyes gleamed sorrowfully. "The enmity between your father, godfather and Severus began on the very first day of school, as I remember, even before our arrival, specifically. Yes, Severus' loathing for them ran deep, and I daresay when he looks upon you, who are a reflection of James in every way, he struggles to contain the painful feelings James' memories arouse. However, you must understand that whatever contempt Severus demonstrates is tempered by a fierce pride in your abilities and, I believe, perhaps even respect for you, however grudging." When Harry snorted, Remus continued, unwilling to surrender the advantage. "For years, Severus has driven you harder than any of his other charges. Why?"

"Because he hates me," said Harry, logically. He looked around the room, wanting to jump up and make an escape.

"Because he wants to urge you to work harder, to be better than the rest," corrected Remus. He gave the Headmaster a glance for reassurance, and Dumbledore nodded sagely. "It is not Severus' way to coddle or praise, Harry, and that is unfortunate, but in his own way he is forever pushing you forward, requiring you to challenge your abilities."

Harry shook his head. "I still don't trust him, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving the school or my friends. Nobody is going to fight on my behalf. It's me Voldemort wants, not them."

"Precisely why you must be moved, Harry," spoke Dumbledore. "Once you are safely relocated, word of your disappearance will be leaked to the student body. Those students reporting back to the Death Eaters will carry the news that you have run away from the school."

"Run away?" challenged Harry.

Inwardly, Remus groaned. _Now Albus, what did you have to say that for?_ "An alternate cover story can be devised once you are safe, Harry. The point is, the students will believe you are gone. Once Voldemort gets wind of this information, it is unlikely he would attempt an invasion of the school. As you are the prime target, it would make little sense to wage war on Hogwarts in your absence. Your friends and fellow students will be safe from harm."

Harry frowned, struggling to accept the information. Finally, he spoke. "Are Ron and Hermione coming too?" he asked hopefully. In his mind's eye, he pictured the cheerful Gryffindor common room. He thought of his friends, the laughter that echoed in the Great Hall at mealtimes, the joy he took in a few of his favourite courses and the delight of mastering a new skill. How soon before he would be torn away from Hogwarts, the only place he had really ever considered a home?

"I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore. "Harry, please consider," he went on quickly as Harry looked up sharply. "The disappearance of one famous student will arouse a great deal of suspicion unless it can be orchestrated very carefully. We may be able to divert suspicion with a logical cover story, but how can we explain the absence of your friends as well?"

"Say we left together," urged Harry. He thought of Hermione and Ron, his heart thumping in his chest at the thought of being separated from them. "We're always together, it would make sense."

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry, I'm afraid that simply isn't possible."

"Then I'm not going."

"Harry," said Remus gently. "Consider the danger you bring everyone by remaining here." It hurt him to say it, hurt more to see the look of shock and pain in Harry's eyes at his words, but Remus knew it would prompt Harry to see reason. "With you at Hogwarts, the entire school is in danger. Voldemort will carry out his attack, but we can be sure he will not expect his Death Eaters to rein in their murderous desires. There is no telling how many students and members of staff will be killed or injured. I understand you care greatly for your friends, and I admire the camaraderie between the three of you, but they will suffer on your behalf if you refuse to remove yourself from Hogwarts."

Startled, Harry stared at Remus. "When am I leaving?"

"Tonight," Remus started to say, but then something caught his eye. There was a flicker of a shadow just outside the door to Dumbledore's office. "Albus," he spoke softly, "I'm afraid this conversation has been compromised."

"Ah, Mr Malfoy," said Dumbledore grandly as he waved his wand, revealing the blonde-haired Slytherin ducking down the passage. "I see you have decided to become privy to the secrets we are discussing here tonight. Come in, please," he beckoned with one hand. When Draco remained frozen in the entryway, Dumbledore waved his wand again, summoning a nearby chair to scoop Draco up and deliver him to Remus' side. "Cup of tea, my boy?"

Draco's wide, silvery eyes darted from Dumbledore's grinning face to Remus' grave one before focussing directly on Harry. He could feel the speed of his heartbeat cycle ever quicker as he stared into that familiar face. _The Boy Who Lived,_ he thought roughly. _Chosen One. That Potter._ Surveying Harry's green eyes and the thin trace of scar that dissected his forehead, Draco shivered. He shrugged away Dumbledore's offer of tea, instead choosing to voice his suspicions. "He's leaving?"

"He is," agreed Dumbledore easily. He reclined in his chair, wishing the lot of them were gone so he could engage in a cigar, his one preferred vice. Relaxation and leisure were concepts that belonged to the past as far as he was concerned; what with everything to do, he rarely had time to muse through the assembled memories collected in his Pensieve and suck on lemon drops anymore. In this aspect, he envied the children in his care, who, despite the tension around them, were still able to indulge in pranks and laughter, puppy love and board games. However, the young man seated before him looked as grave as Dumbledore himself felt. "How much did you overhear?"

"Everything," said Draco with some satisfaction. "The Gargoyles let me through. The password was Cauldron Cakes." He looked fairly pleased with himself for surpassing the Headmaster's security.

Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed it is. Clever of you, Mr Malfoy, to infiltrate the inner offices. Your father would indeed be proud." Draco's eyes clouded somewhat at this; he looked almost frightened, the shadows looming under his eyes appearing even bigger. "I see to remember Lucius had a knack for spying. So, may I inquire as to the reason for your espionage? Have you been assigned to take word to your father, or perhaps Voldemort directly?"

Draco's eyes widened. "No," he whispered.

"There must be some reason you are here," urged Dumbledore. "Harry, perhaps?" He noticed as Draco fidgeted in his chair. "Have you been given the task of tailing Harry, observing him, or is this simply an independent effort, such as a prank?"

"Nothing like that," shot back Draco, stung by the accusations. He supposed he deserved to be thought of as Harry's enemy. After all, he had spent most of his waking hours at the school engaged in petty torments and slinging insults at Harry and his friends. Still, it was unpleasant to have Albus Dumbledore's eagle-keen eyes surveying his face as if reading his secrets.

Remus leaned forward, his penetrating gaze boring into Draco's face. "Then enlighten us."

"I just wanted to talk," mumbled Draco, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, though of course Remus, with his exemplary senses, understood. "He's –"

"Yes?"

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, Draco sighed. "Nothing."

"I see. Well, considering that you are now alerted to our plans, Mr Malfoy, I trust you understand why I cannot permit you to return to the Slytherin dormitory." When Draco looked up in shock, Dumbledore continued. "This meeting was, in a word, secret. Now, the information has been leaked to you. Now, I am certain," continued Dumbledore, his voice laden with irony, "that you would never intentionally endanger Harry by sharing this information with your friends or anyone else who might intend Harry harm, but secrets are difficult things to keep, and it is better to be safe than sorry. No, I'm afraid you are now part of the plan as opposed to a mere witness."

"What?"

"You'll be leaving the school with Harry," spoke Remus. He thought of Severus' likely reaction to the news and was torn between a reproving frown and a smile as the image of Severus bellowing about Draco's untrustworthiness flashed through his mind. "For his safety."

"But – no!" Draco jumped from his chair, looking murderous. "I'm not – you can't make me --"

_Here comes the tried and true,_ thought Remus resignedly. _My father._

"– when my father hears about this, he'll – he'll – he won't stand for it. Hell, nor will I." Draco's temper shone on his face. "I'm seventeen. I'm of age. You can't decide what I do or where I go."

"Well, Draco, I'm afraid that is not entirely true," said Remus. When the boy gaped at him, he shrugged. "It is true that you are legally of age, and under normal conditions, your whereabouts cannot be dictated to you. However, things here are a bit different. You have been caught spying on a private conversation shared between myself, Mr Potter and Headmaster Dumbledore. I hardly need explain to you again that any action taken against Harry, particularly a threat to his safety, is most unwise in these grave times. Furthermore, you are known to have connections to the Death Eaters terrorist organisation, through your father, family friends and your own affiliates. I can also see, based on your physical reaction," he went on as Draco unconsciously clenched his arm, "that you yourself have been marked with Voldemort's symbol. If Dumbledore reported your activities to the Ministry of Magic, you would be had up on treason. There would be no trial, simply an automatic sentence to Azkaban prison."

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore picked up the explanation. "You see, my boy, your situation is grave. However, here you are being given an option. You may choose to co-operate with us, or we can summon the Ministry." He pointed at the blazing fire. "My Floo is connected to Scrimegeour's personal fireplace; I can have him here in seconds, though of course I would prefer your cooperation."

"I'm not doing anything to endanger Potter," Draco protested weakly.

"That's not how it looks though, Draco," Remus assured him. "And I do believe you subscribe to a motto that appearances are everything?"

"I wanted his help," Draco burst out. It was difficult, and he swallowed his pride with great effort._ Has to be done_, he reminded himself. _Father will kill me if the Dark Lord doesn't get there first._ Slowly, he slid back the sleeve of his robes to reveal a blazing black mark imprinted on his fair skin. He looked at it with hatred, loathing and fear, and noted with satisfaction that both Harry and Dumbledore appeared startled. Lupin did not, but Draco dismissed that. _What would a mangy werewolf have to fear from Voldemort? He recruits them. _"I didn't want this. They forced me!"

Remus felt himself pale. "You are not aligned with the Death Eaters?" he asked, staring at the Dark Mark on Draco's forearm. "You were marked against your will?"

"No! Not – not anymore," Draco amended. He thought of the years he had spent dedicated to grasping that power, and shuddered. Ever since he was a small boy he had wanted to emulate his father. Lucius had always been heartless, even cruel, revelling in destruction and murder and mayhem, but he had dedicated himself to instilling the value of power and control in his young son, and Draco had lived to please. He had spent his time as a student lusting after the wealth of power Voldemort offered, dreaming of the day he would be called into service. Then he had been, and it had been nothing he had expected. His father's friends were bullies. Draco had existed in a sphere of perpetual danger, attacked from all sides by Death Eaters demanding more and more from him. He had endured abuse, even the Cruciatus, as they had attempted to toughen him up under Lucius' watchful eye. Then he had been instructed in the Killing Curse. He had always believed the Avada Kedavra would make him lord and master of lesser beings, but he had sickened him to see the results of his clumsy murders. He was terrified of stepping out from his father's shadow, but loyalty no longer held him to Lucius, or to Voldemort. He gazed at Dumbledore with hopeful, though shadowed eyes, resentful and pleading all at once.

"They have jobs they want me to do. Murders," Draco added, the bite of pride and contempt still in his voice. "If I fail, if I flee, they won't waste time trying to get me back. I'll be killed. I thought, if anyone could help, it would be..." He looked at Harry significantly, surprised to see the other boy looking at him evenly. For once, Potter was not glaring back. "I didn't know what else to do."

"I see." Dumbledore tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Then this relocation will be not only for Harry's protection, but your own. Remus," he went on. "Will you locate Minerva and have her arrange to deliver Mr Potter's baggage to this office in precisely one hour? I will obtain Mr Malfoy's myself. Boys," he added, looking from Harry to Draco. "Sit tight."


End file.
